Voiceless
by TripUpStairs
Summary: AU. Once upon a time, there was a girl born with the fairest voice in all the land. Unfortunately, her peers at William McKinley High School could really care less. And then one day, everything changes.
1. The Fairest of Them All

**A/N: **While much has been drawn from the show, this fic is an AU and a bit of an exploration into writing a modern day fairy tale. If you've found your way here, I hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Voiceless**

_**Chapter 1: **__**The Fairest of Them All**_

_Once upon a time, there was a girl blessed with the fairest voice in all the land. She had a happy, carefree childhood with her two loving fathers, spending day after day singing and dancing to her heart's content. Even as a youth with boundless energy, she warmed the coldest soul whenever she broke into song. All who heard her voice knew she was destined for more than a simple life with the other townspeople. But as she grew older, the hearts of her peers grew cold and cruel at knowing she was different from them._

"_Why does she think she's so special?" they cried._

_One by one, they became deaf to the sound and power of her voice. One by one, the girl was cast out. One by one, she lost all her companions. All she had were her fathers, but they could not protect her from all of the wickedness sent her way. And so the girl matured, beautiful and strong, but lonely and unhappy. She consoled herself only by song and the knowledge that she would flee from the town as soon as she came of age. But it became harder and harder to make it through each day even with the promise of the future…_

* * *

The slushy strikes her, stinging cold and wet. Bull's-eye. She's left gasping for breath, laughter ringing in her ears. It's only from routine practice that she doesn't drop her books. She knows they'll be kicked down the hall if she does.

"Enjoy loser!" It's a male voice, full of cruel laughter.

Rachel cradles her books in one arm and uses the other to wipe the slushy from her eyes and face. A few students in the hallway still stare, some in relief—that it wasn't them—and some in amusement. But this was a typical day, and most of the students have resumed moving about their business. She may not always be the target, but witnessing such an attack is a common enough activity in McKinley High School. She shivers as the slushy slides down her shirt, and, as she does, she catches sight of Quinn Fabray.

The resident queen of McKinley is as immaculate as always. Golden hair pulled back into a ponytail, the angry red of her crisp Cheerios uniform contrasting to her pale skin—Quinn is untouchably beautiful. But she isn't laughing. She stares, an island of cool indifference in a sea of tittering teenagers.

And for a moment, they lock gazes. There's a flash of something dark and human. And then…_nothing_.

Quinn turns sharply, the pleats of her skirt twirling around her pale thighs, and glides away. The slushy continues its cold journey down Rachel's body, and she finds herself conscious again, much like waking from a dream. It's the exact opposite of waking from a nightmare into the pleasant confines of her bed.

Rachel wishes that she didn't have a single decent thought about Quinn Fabray. But things change. People change. And Quinn is a prime example of it because the Quinn of now is nothing like the Quinn of freshman year. That Quinn was ruthless. This Quinn is…distant. To everyone.

Casting Quinn from her mind, Rachel hurries to her locker. She quickly opens it, grabbing her emergency change of clothes, before heading toward the nearest restroom at a brisk walk. She ignores the gloating grins of her "popular" peers when they catch sight of her, and she tries to keep her shoulders from dropping as the rest of the student body pointedly ignores her. She wishes she could do something about her heart as it thuds with distress or the way her throat feels like it's about to close up. She manages to keep her head held high all the way to the restroom.

Her heart drops upon seeing who else in the ladies' room when she opens the door. More red Cheerio uniforms await her and these particular ones belong to Santana Lopez and Brittany Pierce. They're huddled together in one corner, and Rachel averts her eyes as she makes her way to the sink. Santana is known to be quick to attack on any perceived slight to her, her girlfriend, or their relationship. Though after a rumor circulated that she beat up an ex-convict outside of Breadstix for looking at them the wrong way, everyone has treaded lightly when it comes to Santana and Brittany.

"Blue huh?" comes Santana's sneering voice. "It certainly makes it that much easier to call you a Smurf."

Rachel doesn't respond, knowing it can only end badly if she so much as opens her mouth. She sets her clothes to the side and turns the faucet on, keeping her gaze on the water rushing out and slipping down the drain. Menacing footsteps come closer. Rachel hears a sniff.

"Oh is that blueberry flavor?" Brittany says airily from just behind her.

Rachel blinks slowly before answering, not looking up. "Yes, I suppose it is."

"Sad you have to wash it out. Blueberry smells great!"

"Hey if Brittany thinks you smell alright, maybe you shouldn't be washing up," Santana says with an edge. "Just go like that the rest of the day. Trust me, it's an improvement."

Rachel exhales slowly, swallowing down her retort. If she keeps ignoring Santana, she'll get bored and leave—or so Rachel hopes. Instead, they linger, and Rachel grows ever more tense.

"It's been years, and you still just don't get it," Santana says scornfully after a moment passes. "You can keep that massive nose up in the air all you want—you're still no better than any of the rest of us in this shit town. Maybe if you stop acting like it, you can go a week without getting a slushy facial. Maybe I can go a week without wanting to vomit every time I see you. Doubtful—but you never know. Come on Britt, let's go."

Rachel grips the sink instead of letting her words fly because _oh_ does she want to fight back. But the slushy remnants are growing sticky and her hair is matted into clumps and she's _so_ tired of the abuse. Santana and Brittany are walking out the door, hand and hand, and to let her words fly free now would only make things worse. Plus she still hopes to make it to at least part of her next class…

So instead she finally lets her shoulders fall as the door swings shut behind them. She stiffens again almost immediately when the bathroom door is pulled open just a few seconds later. She doesn't relax even when it's a friendlier face that appears.

"Hey," Tina says. She only takes a couple of steps into the restroom. Her trepidation is obvious as her gaze falls on everywhere but Rachel. "I saw you come in here. You okay?"

Rachel nods her head. "Yes. I'm fine," she says shortly.

There's not much else to say. They both have had a long history of dealing with slushies.

"So…um…we were thinking that maybe we won't have glee practice today?"

"You mean Kurt and Mercedes were thinking?" Rachel snaps, suddenly irrationally angry. Even if they spend half their time fighting over arrangements, solos, song choices, and everything else under the sun, singing in glee club is always cathartic. And she really needs it today.

"Artie and I thought it might not be a bad idea either," Tina says tentatively.

"Fine. If that's what you all want today then it's not like I can keep you there. It's not like we have anything to sing for besides ourselves either," Rachel says heatedly. "If the sale at the mall is more important then that's their business. It's not like any of you really care anyway."

She's not even sure what the _care_ was supposed to refer to. Tina will probably think she means glee club. Rachel thinks she means herself.

"O-Okay…I'll just see you later then?" Tina says, and then she flees the restroom.

Rachel is left alone but for her reflection in the mirror. It's not the first time she's been slushied, and it's not going to be the last. But she is frozen by the sight of herself, and that's when her throat finally closes and the tears start to form. The bell rings, loud and sharp, indicating the start of the period. It reverberates through her, her ears ringing with it, and the cool tile walls seem to close in on her. The last thing she wants is to be in this forsaken school for any longer.

She turns the faucet off, grabs her things, and flies out of the restroom. She's thankful to find the hallway near empty. All she wants is to get to her car and speed out of the parking lot as fast as possible. She forgets about the books she left behind. She forgets about the requirements for signing out. But she doesn't forget about the stickiness on her skin or the blue stains on her blouse. She doesn't forget about the laughter. She doesn't forget about the loneliness.

And then she turns the corner and runs into what feels like a solid wall. And when she looks up, she's horrified to see it's Finn Hudson. Tall, handsome Finn Hudson, complete with a letterman jacket. The very boy that Rachel pretends to sing to on a daily basis.

"Whoa, easy there," he says, reaching out a hand to steady her. "Looks like they got you today."

"Yes," Rachel says tightly. Finn has been on the other end of the slushy cup before, but that doesn't seem to stop her heart from beating erratically somewhere in her throat.

He shrugs. "Nobody means anything by it, but shouldn't you go get cleaned up?"

"I have a change of clothes in my car that I'm going to retrieve at this moment," Rachel says quickly. Never mind the extra clothes in her hand.

Finn doesn't seem to notice them either. "Alright then, see you later. I'm late for class," he says with a smile, and Rachel wishes it weren't so attractive.

He walks away, and she can't help but linger, staring at the back of his broad shoulders. Yet it only takes a second for her to remember the blue slushy and how she just carried on a conversation with Finn Hudson covered in it. The walls begin to close in on her, blood red and suffocating. And as cute as he is, Finn's words burn through her—_Nobody means anything by it._

_Nobody means anything by it._

She practically sprints toward her car, heart pounding again because of tears and anger and how the last thing she wants is to spend another minute in this place.

She's fairly certain she makes the return trip home in half the normal time. It's like she blinks and then she's stepping into the shower in her bathroom still wearing her slushy-stained clothes. She sits down in the tub, feeling much too overwhelmed to stand. The steady stream of water gently pelts her skin; it's warm and comforting touch washing away the remnants of the assault.

But even with the physical evidence of her lowly place in this town vanishing, she's still left with the fact that who she is has been rejected once again. Continuously, constantly rejected. It _hurts._ It hurts to keep walking into that school everyday when at best she's merely ignored. She doesn't want to need any of it. She wishes she didn't crave their approval. But she does. And even though she's so close to being done—years of it and the end is in sight. So close that she's just waiting for her acceptance letters to the roughly dozen universities and colleges she applied to. So close that it's just a few more months and then she can avoid Lima forever more. But she's so tired of the abuse. She's so tired of being alone.

She stands when the water starts to grow cool, stripping off her clothes and quickly lathering her hair and body. She watches the suds disappear down the drain and wonders how she can follow them. Somewhere dark, far, and away.

She steps out of the shower when it grows too cold to remain and wraps herself into her oversized robe. She heads downstairs to make tea, glad both of her fathers are working so she doesn't have to explain herself.

As she sets the kettle to boil, a chiming ring resounds throughout the house. The doorbell—she realizes. It must be a package—that's the only rational reason her doorbell could be ringing at this hour. Any visitors would know neither she nor her fathers would (or should) be home. But then the doorbell rings again. And then again. She has a sudden fearful thought that someone from McKinley has followed her home.

She approaches her front door anyway however, because she's much too curious as to whom this visitor could be. She edges toward it cautiously, doing her best to keep quiet. She rises onto her tiptoes, hands braced on the door, and looks through the peephole. She blinks in surprise at what she sees.

There's a woman on the other side, waiting patiently. Rachel doesn't know why, but she feels an instant connection to her—a familiarity of sorts. Still wary, she primes her phone to call 911. Rachel is always prepared for the worst-case scenario, and if this woman is hiding a psychotic kidnapper behind her benevolent smile then she'll be ready. She opens the door just enough to peak out, keeping her foot firmly wedged against it as an emergency doorstop.

"Hello," Rachel ventures.

And the woman smiles wide and disbelieving. "Rachel…"

She's taken aback by her name falling from the woman's lips, and she goes on the offensive, slightly unnerved. "Who are you?"

The woman runs a hand through her long, dark hair. "I'm so sorry. Let me introduce myself. I'm Shelby. Shelby Corcoran. I'm… Rachel, I'm your birth mother."

A thousand and one questions fly through Rachel's head at those words, and she wants each and every one of them answered. But the only thing that falls out of her mouth is "What!?"

"I'm sorry," Shelby says softly. "That perhaps was not the most tactful way of revealing who I am. I talked to your fathers last night about meeting you today while I'm in town. Did they not mention it?"

"I retired early last night," Rachel says. And it's true—she was feeling especially exhausted last night. Both of her fathers were in a rush to get to work this morning so not much was said at that point in time either. "This is just so—if I'm to believe you, and that is a big if—why are you here after all this time?"

"Ah, could I perhaps come in and we can talk for a bit?" Shelby asks. "I didn't plan on visiting until tonight, but I couldn't resist driving by. When I saw a car here, I couldn't stop myself from trying to see if it was you."

Rachel stiffens again at thought of why exactly her car is _here_ and not a school, but she draws in a breath and forces herself to focus on the situation at hand. "Before I let you into my home, I am going to need to see two forms of ID to confirm you're actually this supposed Shelby Corcoran. Then I'm going to confirm with my fathers."

Rachel can see that Shelby is trying not to smile. "Will a driver's license and credit card work? And there's no need to bother your fathers. They're no doubt busy at work. Instead, will my call log with Hiram work?"

"Your driver's license and credit card is sufficient," Rachel says. "But I am still going to talk to my fathers."

Something flashes across Shelby's face. It's not enough to put Rachel on edge, but it is enough for her to catch. She shrugs it off. She's just trying to be safe! This _Shelby_ should understand that.

"Here you go," Shelby says after pulling out her wallet from the purse hanging off her shoulder. "License and a credit card."

Rachel carefully examines the New York license, though she honestly isn't sure what she's looking for. Everything seems to match up between the license and the woman standing before her. In addition, the credit card clearly states Shelby Corcoran on its embossed letters. She hands them back with a smile, "Thank you. Now just give me a moment to call my fathers…"

She dials her both her fathers, one after another, and neither pick up. Shelby waits, a small smile on her face. Rachel eyes her after she hangs up on her dad's voicemail. She's still anxious about this stranger—and deservedly so, Rachel thinks. It's not every day a woman claiming to be your birth mother shows up at your doorstep. She sends a quick text to both her fathers.

"You can see I talked to them last night," Shelby prompts, holding out her phone.

Rachel peers at the small screen, and there it is—a 15-minute phone call with her dad's number. And then her own phone buzzes back with an incoming text. A smile grows across Shelby's face. It's practically all teeth, and it makes the hair on the back of Rachel's neck rise. She checks her phone regardless, and it's response from her dad.

"_It's okay if you want to talk to her._"

Rachel huffs at her phone. That's really very unforthcoming.

She looks back up at Shelby, and her small, patient smile has returned. She pulls open the door, and motions for Shelby to come inside. "You can come in. You've been nothing but polite and you've passed all security measures."

"Security measures," Shelby says with a chuckle. She strolls into the living room, looking around. "At least I know you've been taught to take care of yourself."

Rachel is suddenly nervous. Not about the unknowns this woman possesses, but about the fact that if her claims are true then Rachel is really staring at her birth mother. She had always wondered about her. She thinks that's normal. And aside from a small period during her sophomore year, she never felt the need to find her. Her dads had always been more than enough.

The kettle in the kitchen whistles, and Rachel jumps. "Oh, I was making tea! Would you like some?" she says hurriedly as she bustles past Shelby.

"That would be lovely," Shelby responds.

They're both quiet as Rachel makes the tea. Shelby stands at the kitchen island, and Rachel can't help but take subtle glances at her. She thinks she sees the resemblance now—the dark hair and eyes, the nose, and facial structure. But Shelby looks…_accomplished_. Glamorous even. And Rachel feels inadequate.

"Why are you here?" Rachel asks warily as she places Shelby's mug on the island. "Why are you finding me now?"

"I was passing through on business, and I couldn't help but want to see the girl I helped create. To see how you've grown and thrived," Shelby says gently. "But let's start small… How's school and why aren't you there now?"

Rachel's gaze drops to her cup of tea in front of her. "I'm near the top of my class. I'm a member of a number of clubs—"

"Which ones?"

"I love singing and performing, so glee club is my favorite. But we only have a few members and have never had enough to compete in my years at McKinley."

"I'm not surprised you're a singer. I am too," Shelby says with a smile.

"Are you?" Rachel says, unsurprised, but excited all the same.

Then the words start tumbling out. And it's easy and fun as they talk Broadway and music lessons and performances. It comes to her that she's actually talking to her mother. Her mother! And she's beautiful and smart and everything Rachel wants to be. She's learns that Shelby has been in a number of Off-Broadway productions, and Rachel talks about how she dreams of making it in New York. She talks about how singing has always been the one thing that's been easy for her. The one thing that's always been there for her, and then Shelby asks—"But what about your friends?"

And Rachel swallows thickly as she thinks about lying. But she can practically feel blue slushy running down her face and neck. She remembers the sneers and laughter, and she remembers how everyone else turned away. She meets Shelby's gaze, and there's something predatory in their depths. It's like she _knows_. Rachel finds herself telling the truth regardless.

"I don't have any," Rachel says softly.

"Surely not!" Shelby says.

"No…it's true. I'm too different," Rachel says. "I don't fit in here, and everyone knows it. I'm different. I-I want everything too much, and those Neanderthals at school know it."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Shelby says measuredly.

Rachel hardly notices. It feels so good to have someone new listen—someone who actually seems to care. She hates talking to her dads about her life at school. Even though they have an idea, it hurts her for them to know how much she struggles and she knows it hurts them too.

"I don't think I can deal with it any more," Rachel says impassioned. "I hate that place so much. I'm so close to being done, but the thought of walking in there tomorrow and having to face it again! I _can't_… I'm so tired of being alone! I just want friends! I want to be popular. I want to have that life. I want to graduate on top! Three and a half years at the bottom of the food chain no matter what I do… I just want things to be different."

Shelby reaches a hand out, gently touching Rachel's wrist.

"And what if I told you, I could make that happen?" Shelby says.

There's something in her voice and in the depths of her stare that make Rachel believe her. "What do you mean?" she says hesitantly, fingering her now cold cup of tea.

"Rachel," Shelby says, "I'm a witch."

Rachel blinks owlishly. "I'm sorry?"

"I'm a witch," Shelby says nonchalantly, taking a sip of her tea.

_She's crazy_, Rachel thinks as she backs away from Shelby and the kitchen island. "I am going to have to ask you to leave now because your insistence that you're a witch is making me uncomfortable."

"Don't be so hasty dear," Shelby says. "What would I have to gain by claiming I'm a witch?"

"Nothing, but that doesn't rule out the fact that you could be insane!" Rachel says.

"Do I seem insane to you?"

Rachel eyes her, swallowing nervously. "No, but the craziest people often seem the most sane!"

"Rachel," Shelby says calmly. "I can promise that I'm not going to hurt you and that I'm not going to do anything you don't want me to do. But I'm going to do something right now to prove it to you…" Shelby's gaze drops from hers, falling to the cup Rachel left sitting on the kitchen counter. She flicks her hand, and Rachel gasps as steam rises over the edge of the lip from the tea that remains.

She approaches, eyes wide and on her cup of tea. She touches the outside and feels heat seep through to her fingers.

"You…"

"Yes," Shelby says. "Like I said, I'm a witch."

Rachel is quiet for a moment, her mind trying to wrap around the fact that witches exist and her birth mother apparently is one. Wait…

"You, my biological mother, are a witch?"

"As we've been over, yes."

"If you're a witch… Am I witch!?" Rachel says excitedly. "Oh my _Barbra_, I'm a witch aren't I? This—_This_ is the kind of thing I've always waited for! Are there schools like Hogwarts? Did my letter get lost? Is that why you're here? I always knew I was special!"

Shelby laughs. "You're special," she says gently. "Just not in the way you think."

"What do you mean?" Rachel asks curiously.

"For one, you're not a witch. It's a recessive gene, and you were born without it. Needless to say, you would have lived a very different life if you had been granted such powers."

"Oh," Rachel says, unable to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

"You, however, hold something much more powerful," Shelby says lowly. Something sparks deep within her eyes, and Rachel shivers under that gaze. "The fairest voice in all the land."

"The fairest voice in all the land… That hasn't served me well in any capacity," Rachel says bitterly.

"You would know better than I concerning what it has done for you up to this point, but there is something else that such power can give you."

"It would be so kind of you to share exactly what that it is instead of talking in circles," Rachel snaps.

Shelby gives her a look that makes her feel instantly like a child and regretful of her impatience.

"I'm sorry," Rachel says. "It's been a long day, and I…"

"It's fine," Shelby says shortly. "As I was saying… Having the fairest voice in all the land allows you to be touched by the most powerful of magics."

"What does that mean?" Rachel says hesitantly.

"If you truly want to be favored by this town for who you are, to gain the admiration from your peers and the attention of your true love, then I, a witch, can make that happen." Shelby says.

Everything freezes except the blood pounding in her ears. Rachel pictures it then. Finn, with an arm wrapped around her shoulders as he escorts her to class. The sea of students, parting for them with benevolent whispers and admiring looks. Finn kisses her goodbye at the door to her classroom, promising to meet her for lunch.

"Just…just like that? You can make it happen?" Rachel says distantly, lost in her fantasy.

"I can make it happen, but not _quite_ just like that," Shelby says lightly.

Rachel snaps out of her reverie, gaze falling on Shelby's tight smile. "I have a feeling I'm not going to like this part."

"Smart girl," Shelby says. "There is a price to pay for this kind of magic."

"What is the price?" Rachel says warily.

"Your voice."

"M-My voice?"

"Just your singing voice," Shelby quickly amends. "It _is_ the fairest voice in all the land."

"But my voice… Singing is my life," Rachel says.

"It doesn't have to be," Shelby says firmly. "You can have it all. If you want to be popular without having to change _you_, you have to give up your voice. And as most magic of this magnitude entails—getting it back only involves your true love. All I can tell you is that your true love is somewhere within reach otherwise this spell would be impossible."

"Finn?" Rachel says, heart racing.

"That boy? Sure," Shelby says. There's a curious tone to her voice, and the corner of one of her lips twitch upwards, hinting at a sneer. Then Rachel blinks and Shelby's smile is benign again. "You'll have until the queen and king are crowned to exchange a confession of true love with your soulmate. If such a confession does take place, you'll get your voice back and you can leave Lima at the top, ready to take your next step to stardom by storm. If it doesn't or if you exchange a confession with the wrong person, you can kiss Broadway goodbye."

"I suppose being popular doesn't mean that my true love automatically recognizes what we share?" Rachel says more to herself than anything.

"Love is a little different from popularity," Shelby says dryly. Her voice subsequently softens, her eyes growing gentle. "This magic will essentially make everyone want to be your friend. Isn't that what you want? To not be alone anymore?"

Those words ring in her ears. A whirl of noise that starts to resemble laughter. She sees them, every single one of them, turn away from her time and time again. She feels the sting, physical, mental, of the life she currently leads. And before her is a way to change it all, a way to stop it. The constant, relentless, incessant—_every damn day—_hurt and abuse. A way for her to get a happy ending now, instead of years down the road.

She doesn't have to be alone anymore.

And she's confident that she can exchange a confession of true love with Finn in time. 'Queen and king crowned' could only mean prom, which is still weeks away. That's plenty of time for things to develop between them. If she's popular, it makes it all the easier. She has no chance with Finn as she is now, and she fears she'll lose any chance with him altogether if she spends the rest of the year in her current state. And he's supposed to be her true love! What if this is her only chance?

It's a risk. Her voice has been her one constant companion—always there for her, ready to remind her of the future. But the rewards are far greater. Acceptance, friends, _love_. She's at her breaking point, she realizes.

She _needs_ it.

"I want it," Rachel says, the words falling from her lips in a rush. "I want that life. And I will get my voice back."

Shelby's smile widens until it's nothing but a display of teeth, and her eyes glow with fiery intrigue. "Then I will start the spell, and all I need from you is to sing _for one last time_."

* * *

**A/N: **If you made it through, thanks for reading! As you can see, we have quite the road ahead of us...

Apparently I'm a one-trick pony when it comes to exploring Rachel's future as a performer versus other aspects in her life. That being said, I hope you find that there is room for another such fic from me.

Thank you as always to thoughtsinorange.


	2. It's All About Popular

**A/N: **Thank you guys for the wonderful reception to this fic. One of you left a review that was kind of right on the money in regards to something that happens this chapter. Alas, fairy tales are rather predictable. Regardless, I have a few twists and turns planned that I hope you guys won't quite be able to see coming. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

* * *

**Voiceless**

**_Chapter 2: It's All About Popular_  
**

The first thing Rachel registers is that the floor underneath her is cold, unforgiving hardwood. When she opens her eyes, it takes her a moment to realize that she's staring at the ceiling of her kitchen. Despite being in her home, she feels exposed. Vulnerable. She sits up quickly and notes that, surprisingly, physically she feels completely fine. She gingerly climbs to her feet, however, wary and vigilant for anything out of place. Furtive glances around the kitchen reveal no immediate threats.

She's alone.

She catches the time on the microwave. It's late afternoon. She's been out for a couple of hours, she thinks. The last thing she remembers…

That pulling sensation from her diaphragm to her throat as she sang, the sudden wash of a thick smoking energy—_magic_, she thinks—and the smirk playing across Shelby's features, matching her wide, greedy eyes.

The only sign of Shelby that remains are the two teacups on the kitchen island. But Rachel doesn't even need that evidence. She certain it all actually happened. The memory is too real. Too vivid. The magic is almost still tangible in the air. There's only one way to know for certain, however…

She opens her mouth to sing. Something, anything—just a pure note of music—and _nothing_ comes out. A wave of panic flies through her, hitting her like a sucker punch to the gut.

"Can I speak!?" she says alarmingly.

Hearing her own voice, she immediately relaxes. "Okay, I can still speak," she says to herself. "But I can't sing. Just like what we agreed to."

She licks her lips, and then tries to sing again for good measure. Again, she opens her mouth and nothing comes out. She's well and truly voiceless.

She's suddenly anxious… What if she gave up her voice for nothing? What if she walks into school tomorrow and everything is still the same? She can't go back to that place if it is. She _can't_. Especially now that the one thing that got her through the day is gone.

She takes a deep breath, exhaling loudly. She tries to calm herself. It both helps and hurts that there's nothing she can do for now. She likes having a plan of action, but for the moment she's flying blind. There's nothing for her to do but wait and see what happens tomorrow.

* * *

She doesn't say anything to her dads about Shelby. She can't seem to bring herself to. Instead, she sits through a quiet dinner, and when they ask about her day all she says is that it was "fine." She doesn't miss the looks they exchange or the way her daddy's eyebrows knit together and her dad's lips press into a frown. She also certainly doesn't miss the fact they fail to bring up Shelby in conversation either. But talk flows between her fathers without there ever being a natural moment to interject with news of Shelby, and the more time that passes, the stranger it feels to force the issue.

She excuses herself to her room early in order to be alone. She tries to prepare for tomorrow's classes as much as possible, but her thoughts keep drifting. She soon finds herself on her feet, wearing down the carpet as she paces the length of her room. Her mind is a jumble of magic and curses and school and the fact that she actually met her birth mother.

She thinks she should be more excited about meeting her birth mother. But the truth is, her dads have always been fantastic parents, and, aside from a brief period sophomore year, she's never been particularly keen to find her. And now that she has met her, Rachel can't help but focus less on the fact that Shelby is her birth mother and more on the fact that witches and magic are real. How different would her life be if she had magic?

And then her thoughts circle back to school, and, really, she's not sure what should be dominating her thoughts because each on its own is enough to send her into a song to clear her head. She can't resist wetting her lips, opening her mouth to try to sing again. Her heart thumps in her chest as she proves to herself once again that she's completely, entirely, wholly _mute_.

She sighs. It's still unbelievable, but the fact of the matter is that her singing voice is gone. It occurs to her that also means no more glee club practices for her, but it's not like they were accomplishing much in there anyway. She's grateful that she already completed all of her applications for college—granted, she would not have taken the deal if she had some auditions remaining. But if tomorrow actually turns out like she hopes…

There's no use thinking more on it now. She won't know anything until she walks into school in the morning. She returns to her desk, determined to get some homework accomplished because she otherwise knows that her thoughts will continue to run in circles.

Eventually it gets late enough that her fathers tell her goodnight. She goes through her own nightly routine and then gets in bed. Her thoughts only grow louder, and her anxiousness about morning becomes even more pronounced. She wishes she had something to chase these demons away.

Instead, sleep is a longtime coming.

* * *

Rachel has yet to leave the confines of her car. She watches the other students travel by as they make their way to McKinley's front doors. Some drag their feet; others bustle onwards, calling out to friends. Another day of high school waits for all, Rachel included. The adrenaline pumping through her blood has banished all remnants of sleepiness from her restless night. This is it.

"You won't know unless you try," Rachel says to herself. She takes a deep breath, drawing her shoulders back, and finally she opens her car door.

She's not sure what she expected to happen as she steps out of the car. Either yet another slushy to the face or her peers prostrating themselves before her maybe. Instead, business continues as usual with no one overtly paying immediate attention to her.

She clings to her books as she walks up to the school. Whatever resolve she had to walk through the doors with her head held high is quickly vanishing. She expects an attack at any moment and can't stop herself from flinching away from any movement she sees out of the corner of her eye. Though each time it's merely another student passing by—until she catches sight of a broad-shoulder figure in a red letterman jacket.

Noah Puckerman is making his way directly toward her. She quickly scans him. As usual, there are no books or class materials in sight. But his hands are also empty—there's no slushy cup. That doesn't put her at ease though because there are a thousand and one other ways in which he could make her life miserable.

"'Sup Rachel," he says with a smirk.

"You never call me Rachel," she responds shortly.

"Huh, I don't know why... It's a kickass name," Noah says perplexedly. "Fits you. Rachel was the hot one in whatever book that was."

She gives him a look trying to figure out what he means.

"You know… In Genesis. She married the dude after the dude was tricked into marrying her ugly sister."

"You mean Jacob, Rachel, and Leah," Rachel says. "Honestly Noah, I thought you paid better attention at Temple."

"Call me Puck," he says with a leer. "And nah, there are other things to pay attention to when I do go."

"Puck, what are you doing?" a sharp voice cuts toward them.

Rachel forgets to breathe for a moment when she recognizes Santana's voice, clear and razor sharp. And sure enough, she pinpoints the source, and Santana and Brittany are both striding toward them.

"I don't know what you're yelling about," Noah says as they approach. "I'm just talking to Rachel."

"Yeah," Santana says snidely and Rachel prepares for the worst. "I know you, and I know when you're being a perverted jackass—which is right now."

Rachel is fairly certain her mouth has dropped open entirely.

"You look really hot today Rach," Brittany says as Noah attempts to defend himself.

"T-Thanks," she stammers. She's not wearing anything different from normal.

"Come on," Brittany says, linking their arms. "Once San starts yelling at Puck it takes some time to stop."

"Okay," Rachel says quickly as Brittany begins pulling her toward the front doors.

Brittany chats on about Santana and then something about cats, but all Rachel knows is that she's walking through the front doors side-by-side with one of the most popular girls in school. People are staring, but it's nothing like she's ever known. It's…friendly? Admiring?

"Brittany," she says lowly, cutting through the other girl's gentle rambling, "why are you walking with me?"

"What do you mean?" Brittany says, tilting her head to the side.

"Right now. Why are you talking with me? Why are you walking with me?" Rachel demands.

"San and I saw you, and I don't know—I just knew I wanted to hang out with you."

"Even though you've never wanted to before?"

"Yeah, I guess," Brittany says. "Today just seemed like a good day to become your friend. I don't see why it's a big deal."

"It is a big deal," Rachel whispers in disbelief.

Shelby's spell is _real_. Her voice isn't just gone. The spell worked.

"You're being weird. I want to hang out with you. You shouldn't question it. I am senior class president and that gives me power."

"I know," Rachel says faintly.

"Where's your locker anyway? We can go to yours first. But if I don't know where it is we'll just keep walking around in circles like we are now."

"On the 200 hall, across from Mrs. Jamison's room."

Brittany hums a song as she leads them. Rachel can't help but be conscious of their arms linked together and the never-ending stares directed at them—at _her_—from all the other students. So engrossed in everyone else parting to the side, she doesn't notice Finn until he's right in front of them.

"Hi Brittany. Hi Rachel!" Finn says brightly. And then with a bit cautious hesitance, "Where's Santana?"

"Good morning Finn!" Brittany responds cheerily. "Last I saw her she was reminding Puck as to why women will always be superior to men."

Finn blinks. "Right."

"Anyway, I decided today that I need to be Rachel's friend so we're going to her locker before going to mine."

Rachel is staring at him. She can't help it. He looks so handsome in his rugby shirt and bit of 18-year-old scruff on his face. And then he's looking right at her, and she's certain everyone can hear her heart pounding.

"You should sit with all of us at lunch today Rachel. I mean—if Brittany hasn't already invited you."

It's not the most romantic or caring thing she's ever heard, but she can still feel red heat flush over her cheeks. It takes all her will power not to duck her head and look away. "That sounds lovely."

"Great! See you then!" Finn says, beaming before continuing past them.

They eventually make it to her locker. To Rachel it feels like they stop every couple of feet as yet someone else approaches them in greeting. At first, she wonders if she'll ever stop feeling surprised when they say her name right next to Brittany's. But by the time she pulls her books out and they make their way to Brittany's locker, her heart is light and her smile easy.

This is how the other side lives. This is what high school is supposed to be.

As they turn the corner to the 400 hall and approach Brittany's locker, Rachel feels herself grow nervous all over again once she sees exactly who is lingering nearby. Santana leans casually against some of the lockers, but it's not her that inspires the anxious butterflies in Rachel's stomach. Rather, it's Quinn Fabray.

Brittany covers the last few yards in a skip, dragging Rachel with her. She lets go in just enough time that Rachel is still able to maintain a bit of personal space as Brittany nuzzles up to her girlfriend, interrupting the conversation between Santana and Quinn. Rachel finds herself looking away, and, of course, the first thing her gaze settles on is Quinn. She's startled to find hazel eyes staring right back.

Rachel waits for Quinn to say hello. To do something to acknowledge her like all the rest of the school has today. She can't deny that the thought of having Quinn as a friend sends a special sort of thrill through her—especially now that Quinn is so…_mellow_…compared to what she used to be. But instead of a smile, all Rachel receives from Quinn is the same steely-eyed expression.

"Hi Quinn," Rachel ventures hesitantly.

Quinn purses her lips together, turns on her heels, and walks away.

Rachel is left with her heart sinking, and the simple thought of _does the spell not work on Quinn_? But maybe she honestly has somewhere to be. It's not like Quinn was overtly hostile…

"What'd you do with Quinn, Rachel?" Santana says.

Rachel shrugs uncomfortably, wrapping her arms around herself as she searches for words. "I don't know," she says after a moment because any other explanation would be too much.

"Ah, well, don't worry, she's a bitch. She gets into moods," Santana says dismissively. Despite her choice of words, there's nothing hostile in her tone. "Whatever, so we'll see you at lunch?"

"I…" Rachel hesitates, wanting to ask more about Quinn, but she's not sure where to begin. So instead, she nods her head. "Yes, I will happily accompany you at lunch."

* * *

Her morning classes proceed similarly to her walk around the school with Brittany. That is, she's showered with positive attention. Despite the fact that most students typically sit in roughly the same seat every day, everything is turned on its head as the seats nearest to her are snatched up. Her teachers don't say anything, and Rachel notices they also seem to be much less exasperated when they call on her to answer a question.

Quinn shares practically all her classes by virtue of the limited number of AP courses available at McKinley. Rachel can't help but steal glances at her. Quinn remains an anomaly. Not one sign of warmth or acceptance directed toward her unlike the rest of their peers. Rachel knows that Quinn is capable of smiling, of being friendly. She's seen it before. Yet Quinn persists in being cold enough to freeze the air around her. In fact, every word that Rachel does catch Quinn saying is accompanied by a chilly bite that keeps whoever attempts to talk to her from even thinking of following up with more conversation.

"Hey, want to walk with me toward the cafeteria?"

She looks up at the end of fourth period to find Mike Chang's goofy smile and kind eyes. They were lab partners in AP Chemistry. For being rather popular, he's never been particularly cruel. He did ignore her like much the rest. She also knows that ever since Artie and Tina's relationship went down in flames, Tina has never stopped talking about Mike—though Rachel is fairly certain that Mike doesn't even know Tina exists.

"I'd love to," Rachel says as she collects her books. Mike usually eats lunch with Brittany, Santana, Finn, and some of the other more popular students. "But I need to stop by my locker to get my lunch."

Unlike Brittany, Mike is rather quiet as he escorts her first to her locker and then to the cafeteria. It's a companionable silence, however, and they are largely left alone as they walk down the busy halls. It's still different from being ignored. The eyes on her, the smiles… She honestly does feel popular.

And when she sits down amidst the jocks, Cheerios and the few other kids that are held in equal high regard in the school, it's all the more real. It's raucous and loud at the table, and it's hard for her to keep up. Questions and conversation fly toward her from every angle. And she feels _accepted_.

She's laughing at something Brittany says to Noah when she feels the towering presence behind her.

"Puck, dude, _move_," Finn says in a heated whisper.

"Why?" Noah answers.

Finn jerks his lunch tray toward her and then back to Noah. Rachel realizes that Finn wants the seat next to her. She can't help the breathless smile that crosses her features. Finn is going out of his way to sit next to her.

"You serious?" Noah says with an eye roll. "Whatever." He nudges Mike who shuffles over a seat, and then Finn is sliding into the seat next to her.

"Hey," he says, sending her a half-smile.

She swallows, forcing herself to remain calm despite the way her stomach seems to flip over itself. "Hello. How were your classes this morning?" she says by way of polite conversation.

He shrugs, opening one of his three cartons of milk. "They were okay. Got back a test grade in Spanish, and I passed so I'm pretty happy about that."

"For Spanish? Schuester never fails anyone," Santana says acidly. "He's like the worst teacher in the whole school."

"Shut up Santana. I still passed," Finn grumbles, his face flushed.

Hearing Mr. Schuester's name—no matter how little he actually does with them these days—reminds her that she still has to inform the rest of glee club that she'll no longer be performing with them. She looks across the cavernous room, finding the tables that she used to sit among when she did venture into the cafeteria. Artie is sitting with other members of the AV club, while Tina laughs with a few of the other edgy, alternative girls in the school. Mercedes and Kurt are together as per usual; heads tilted toward each as they no doubt gossip. She wonders if it's about her. She finds she actually welcomes the idea that they might be talking about her—and not just in the context of glee club. Her freshman year was rift with gossip as her peers tore apart everything from her dads to her love of performing to her clothes as the social hierarchy formed. These past couple of years she hasn't even been worthy enough to be a source of gossip. But she does very acutely remember exactly who led the charge then…

"Quinn!" Brittany exclaims.

"'bout time you got here," Santana adds.

Rachel glances away from Finn, unable to keep her hope down that Quinn is about to join them. It's kind of indescribable, but all she knows is that she _wants_ to be Quinn's friend. Quinn who is always so pretty and smart and put-together despite whatever might come her way… _Anyone_ would want to be her friend. Everything Rachel knows about Quinn derives only from common knowledge in the school's gossip mill. But the change in Quinn's behavior over their years of high school has only made her more intriguing to Rachel. Regardless, Quinn should be receptive to the idea of being friends now.

But Quinn's eyes are hard, her full lips drawn into a straight line. She places her lunch down on the table and then slams her own hands down. "Okay, what is the deal? Why is _she_ here?" she spits.

"What are you talking about?" Santana scoffs.

"Berry!" Quinn says, hazel eyes flashing. "What is going on? Why is she everywhere today?"

"Why not?" Brittany answers, eyebrows knitted together. "Quinn, you're being rude."

"I don't see what your problem is," Noah says through the food in his mouth. Rachel would find it repugnant if she wasn't so consumed by Quinn's presence.

"My problem? Just yesterday Azimio threw a slushy in her face and every single one of you laughed. And now you all are acting like Berry's your best friend."

"What is your deal? Why are you being such a bitch?" Finn says.

Even though his words are meant to protect her, Rachel finds nothing at all attractive about him in this moment. His lips are drawn up into an ugly snarl. His eyes are narrowed and beady. But more than anything it's the tone of his voice and choice of words.

"Whatever," Quinn practically hisses. "I have no idea what's going on, and I don't care to."

Quinn's eyes fly to hers, and Rachel is taken aback by the intensity within her gaze. But then she turns on her heels and stomps away, leaving Rachel to watch her pinched shoulders and her ponytail swaying with her march from the cafeteria.

"Don't worry about Quinn, Rachel. She'll come around," Brittany says.

Rachel doesn't want to say that she really doesn't think Quinn will because saying it aloud makes it all the more true.

* * *

She goes to the choir room after classes let out for the day. She drags her feet long enough before heading over there that the others are already seated within the risers when she arrives.

The room goes still when she walks in.

"Rachel!" Kurt says warmly, sitting up straighter and adjusting his clothes. "Glad you could make it!"

"Yeah! We were just talking out some new song ideas, and while I would love to take the solo, I'm up for some competition," Mercedes says.

It's one of the rare positive greetings she's gotten from the club, and it leaves her kind of stunned and suddenly nostalgic for the years that have passed. Glee may never have amounted to much—though there was a brief hope sophomore year when Mr. Schuester took over—but it doesn't mean it hasn't meant anything to her. She has had some good times with Kurt, Mercedes, Tina, and Artie—moments when they're singing when they forget all about the politics of who gets a solo.

Rachel takes a breath. "I'm afraid that I have an unfortunate announcement to make," she says. And then she hesitates, wringing her hands

"Girl, don't keep us waiting!" Artie says with a worried frown.

"I'm quitting glee club," Rachel says. She distantly appreciates that her announcement carries just the right amount of drama.

"No, you're not," Tina says quickly and then, with uncertainty, "Are you?"

"I've been advised by my doctor that I should rest my vocal chords for the rest of the year so they may be ready for the stage," Rachel says. The lie comes surprisingly easily. Maybe it's because the truth is all the more unbelievable.

"Are you sure?" Kurt says, voice laced with concern.

Everything about him, about all of them, is sincere, and Rachel is swept up by melancholy. Kurt, Mercedes, Artie, Tina—they could have all been her friends. Good friends, instead of mere acquaintances or rivals. Maybe if she had been less harsh in some of her critiques…

But her voice is gone now. She made her choice, and there's no point in being in glee club anymore. And it's not as if they _were_ actually friends before the spell.

"I'm afraid I am," Rachel says seriously. "It's been a pleasure singing with all of you, but now we must part ways."

She forces a smile that falls as soon as she turns around. She walks out the door, feeling their eyes on her back the whole time. But what's done is done. And she wouldn't change it for anything.

The halls are still moderately busy as students either linger talking to friends or attend club meetings. Her path out to the parking lot from the choir room takes her by the locker rooms. Members of the girls' soccer team and boys' baseball team dash in and out as they hurry toward practice. Most of them pause long enough to give her a quick greeting. She knows that the Cheerios also have practice—because they _always_ have practice—but Coach Sylvester installed a private locker room for them so there's no sign of any Cheerio skirts on this stretch of hallway.

She is caught by surprise when Finn emerges from the boys' locker room as she passes by. He only plays football and basketball, and she knows football has long been over and basketball season just ended. He's still in athletic wear however, and a smile breaks across his face when he spots her.

"Rachel! You headed home for the day?" he asks.

"Yes I am," she says, returning the smile. "It's been a long day. What are you up to?"

"Oh, I'm going to go play pick-up with Puck and a few other guys."

"Pick-up?"

"Basketball. Like we're just going to play around for a bit," Finn says, scratching the back of his head.

"Oh, okay. That makes sense," she says brightly even though she still doesn't really understand.

"I need to go. I'm already late, but I just want you to know that I liked eating lunch with you today and I hope you'll sit with us tomorrow?" Finn says, tilting his head to the side as the confidence in his voice breaks toward the end.

Rachel bites her lip to keep herself from letting out a squeal. "That sounds great!"

"Great!"

They stare at each other in the pause that follows, the silence quickly growing uncomfortable.

"Okay, well I better go. The guys are waiting," Finn says.

"Yes me too," Rachel answers. And then hurriedly, "Not that I have guys waiting on me. I just—I should get home."

"Right," Finn says. "I'll see you later."

But Rachel is already walking away, her heart pounding and a smile stretching from ear to ear. She bursts into the late afternoon sunlight, ready to break into song. Her grin only drops slightly when she remembers she can't sing. It's only when her head comes out of the clouds and she focuses on her car does her smile drop completely.

Quinn is leaning against her car in all her Cheerio-uniformed glory. Her arms are crossed, and there's a hint of a scowl on her face. Rachel's heart picks up it's pace all over again, but she doesn't back down as she approaches her car.

"Good afternoon Quinn. Am I wrong in the assumption that you have Cheerios practice right now?"

Quinn's eyes lock on hers. "Whether there is a Cheerios practice or not is none of your concern."

"That's a fair statement. Though I hope Coach Sylvester is not too hard on you for missing a part of it. Now, would you kindly move? I need to get into my car."

"Not before I say this," Quinn says shortly. "I don't know what kind of drug this stupid school is on, but I know there has to be reason everyone suddenly can't stop talking about you." She pushes herself off from the car, stepping into Rachel's personal space. "And I'll figure it out."

Rachel swallows nervously, remembering just how intimidating Quinn can be. She ducks away, sweeping around Quinn and unlocking her car. "There's nothing to figure out."

"The whole school doesn't just change their attitude toward one person over night," Quinn says. "What are you? Some type of witch?"

"Hardly, Quinn," Rachel says, even as she thinks about Shelby. "I would have done something about my social status long ago if I was. Besides, I remember a time sophomore year when the whole school did change their attitude toward someone over night." She places her bag in her car before turning back around.

And she gasps when she finds Quinn practically on top of her, once again invading her personal space. She can feel the way their clothes skim against each other, and how Quinn, though rather small herself, still manages to make Rachel feel all the smaller.

"And I fought my way back to the top all over again," Quinn snarls.

Rachel has to look away, the dark glare too much for her to take when she knows she overstepped a very important boundary. "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for."

There's a low exhale, and then Quinn backs away. Though Rachel can still feel Quinn's eyes on her. "I'll figure out what's going on," Quinn says lowly.

"There's nothing going on. And I am really sorry for that comment. Can I take you out for coffee or something as a way of making it up to you?"

"Unlike apparently everyone else in this school, I don't want to be your friend. So the answer is _no_." Quinn bites. Her jaw tightens, and her fists clench, and, for a moment, Rachel is honestly nervous. But Quinn spins sharply and stalks briskly away, leaving Rachel to once again stare at her back.

All Rachel knows is that Quinn's aggressive answer makes her want to work that much harder to be her friend.

* * *

She throws herself on her bed when she arrives home and lets the memories of the day wash over her. It all _really_ happened. Everyone wants to be her friend. She was accepted into the popular crowd without any hesitation, and Finn, her _true love_, made it a point to talk and sit next to her. At the rate at which things are proceeding between them—it's only been a day!—she will exchange a confession and have her voice back no problem. Though she knows she shouldn't get so excited yet. They haven't even been on a date for _Barbra's _sake.

The only thing that troubles her is Quinn. Why isn't the spell working on her? Rachel can't think of a single good reason. Perhaps Shelby's magic has a tiny flaw or it doesn't affect certain types of people…

Rachel really has no idea what to think. All she knows is that she will do her best to become friends with Quinn. From today's interactions alone, Rachel finds herself inspired to put forth all the effort she can to make Quinn change her mind. She wishes she knew why Quinn alone has does not want to be friends with her. She's dismayed that she didn't think to get any form of contact information from Shelby to see if her birth mother has any answers.

Her phone chooses that moment to ring, startling her out of her thoughts. She snatches it from her bedside table and furrows her brow at the unknown number. Her instincts tell her to answer it anyway. "Hello?"

"Rachel," comes the smooth voice on the other end, "it's Shelby."

"Shelby! How—how did you..."

"I have my ways," Shelby answers in such a way to indicate that that's the end of that discussion. "And I wanted to check in with you. So, tell me. How was your day?"

"It was wonderful!" Rachel says excitedly. "It worked just like you said it would—the spell I mean. _Everyone_ wanted to be my friend."

"My spells are always worked to perfection," Shelby says. "No regrets?"

"None. I already have friends, and, not to mention, Finn's attention."

"Finn, your…uh…true love right?"

"Yes, that's Finn!" Rachel says, unable to help a sigh as he comes to mind.

"I'm glad to hear it," Shelby murmurs distantly. She clears her throat before speaking again, her voice stronger. "I'll be checking in with you from time to time just to see how things are going. But so far so good?"

"Yes. It's been fantastic."

"Alright, well I'll be in touch," Shelby says.

"Oh! Wait!" Rachel says quickly.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry, I'm so stupid. I had just been thinking about it before you called."

"What, Rachel?" Shelby says brusquely.

"There is this one girl at my school, Quinn. She's the most popular girl in school so maybe that has something to do with it?" Rachel says, thinking aloud. "Anyway, I think something small went wrong with your spell because she doesn't seem to be affected by it at all. In fact, she was the only person who showed anything less than wanting to be my friend today."

She's met with silence on the other end of the receiver.

Rachel waits patiently for Shelby to respond. Eventually the silence stretches for too long, and she can't help but speak up again. "Shelby?"

"…That's impossible," Shelby mutters.

"Is it bad?" Rachel says worriedly. "I'd like to know if this is going to end badly for me."

"Yes—_No_," Shelby says. "No. It's not bad. For you."

"Okay…" Rachel says, unconvinced.

"It's highly improbable. _It's high school_ in the middle of goddamn nowhere," Shelby says distantly.

"Should I be worried? Because I am. Worried. Right now," Rachel says hurriedly.

"No," Shelby says clearly. "You shouldn't be worried."

"Is Quinn a witch too? Is that why it didn't affect her? Or, _oh my god_, is she something else? A vampire? A werewolf?"

"What? No. _ No_. She's not a witch. Or any other..._thing_," Shelby scoffs.

"Oh..." Rachel says, dismayed at how quickly Shelby shut her down.

"But, let me be clear," Shelby says sternly, "you should do everything you can to stay away from this girl—Quinn was it? Stay away from her Rachel. I mean it. I'll be in touch."

Rachel is left with a disconnected phone call and many more questions than answers.

* * *

**A/N:** I hope you guys enjoyed! By the way, my goal, based on my current schedule, is to update every week and a half.

The chapter title was taken from _Wicked_'s "Popular."

Thank you to thoughtsinorange for continuing to be an awesome person.


	3. The Princess and the Party

**A/N:** And finally, here's the next chapter! I hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Voiceless**

_**Chapter 3: The Princess and the Party**_

Rachel wakes in the morning feeling incredibly refreshed, and for once she doesn't find herself dreading the day ahead at school. She practically flies through her morning ritual. She only falters briefly during the middle of her elliptical workout when it crosses her mind that she could walk into school today to find everything has returned to normal just as easily as everything had been turned on its head yesterday. _But there's no reason it would be_, Rachel firmly thinks to herself, powering through her sudden fear by upping her speed on the machine.

She has a light breakfast as her fathers dash around the kitchen, preparing for work. Her dad presses a quick kiss to her head as he speeds out of the room.

Her daddy lingers a little bit longer, pouring coffee into his travel mug. "Any plans for tonight?" he asks.

"Same as every Friday night," she responds after swallowing a spoonful of yogurt.

"Movies and board games with your dear fathers then?"

"Yes please!" Rachel says. She thinks a nice, relaxing evening in is just what she needs after such a bizarre week. Granted, a nice, relaxing evening in is usually just what she wants after a normal week of being a social pariah at McKinley so nothing really has changed aside from the reasoning behind it.

"It's a date. Now I'm off, and you better be making your way to school as well," her daddy says, tipping his travel mug toward her.

Rachel is out the door shortly thereafter and has an easy drive to school. She cranks up her music almost as loud as it can go, and she finds herself missing the ability to sing along only once. She pulls into the parking into the student parking lot and finds that any brief fears she had on the elliptical this morning were unfounded. Her fellow students are waving at her before she even gets out of the car. She waves back, smiling brightly. The small part of her that worried about the day is relieved—the spell is obviously working just fine.

She climbs out of her car and finds herself immediately beset by a couple of Cheerios. She doesn't know their names. They're faceless pretty girls with high ponytails and red armor that start jabbering about other nameless pretty boys. But they do make her think about Quinn and her decision to follow Shelby's advice.

For now.

She wants to be Quinn's friend. More than anything really at this point—_aside from having Finn_, she firmly tells herself. She was curious about her before, but the fact that Quinn didn't fall into line with the spell like all the others has only inspired her interest further. She can't deny that Shelby's warning makes her nervous, however. And combined with Quinn's aggressive behavior yesterday… For the present, she'll keep her distance from Quinn and see how things develop just to be safe. Maybe Shelby will divulge some more information in the future.

She did try to call Shelby back later that evening, wanting answers. But the phone rang and rang, never getting answered and never going to voicemail. As much as it frustrates her, Rachel recognizes when she can't solve something immediately that she might need to revisit a problem later.

The two Cheerios flanking her are still loudly prattling on together, oblivious to how little attention she's paying to them. They do notice when she stops in her tracks as her gaze lands on what is just head. Or rather _who_.

Quinn is chatting with Santana and Brittany in front of the main entrance, and Rachel can't help but stare as Quinn's features ease into a genuine smile. Quinn is _so_ pretty. It's unfair really—the way the sun hits her and practically gives her a golden glow. She's always been pretty. And smart. And popular. And Rachel can't help but wonder if she's partly so obsessed with becoming Quinn's friend now (well, really, since Quinn mellowed after sophomore year) because she wants that same kind of validation from her. There is also the fact that she can't help but be intrigued by Quinn and her behavior in general…

_Regardless_, she'll be doing her best to stay away from Quinn for now.

"Dude, there you are!"

The two Cheerios with her immediately shrink to the side, giggling, and Rachel whirls, finding Noah and Finn striding toward her.

"She's not a dude," Finn says lowly. He's just loud enough for Rachel to understand and she bites back a smile.

Noah shrugs him off and sweeps an arm around her shoulders. "I realize I never made sure yesterday, but you are going to be at the party tonight right?" he says.

"A party?" Rachel says. The idea of going to a real high school party since the spell took effect has never crossed her mind. She's been too busy processing the dramatic change in her life and trying to understand _everything_. But now that the idea is planted, she can't say she's not curious. She wonders if the high school parties she sees in movies and on TV are anything similar to what really happens.

"Yeah. At Brian's. His parents are out of town so it's going to be one huge shit show," Noah says grinning wolfishly.

"I don't know…" Rachel says uncertainly. As curious as she is, she's also a nervous about the idea of going to one.

"You should really come Rachel. It's going to be a lot of fun. I promise to look out for you," Finn says. He grabs Noah by the collar of his letterman jacket, pulling him away from her. Finn smiles warmly down at her in Noah's place, and she feels her heart pounding in her chest.

"Is there going to be alcohol?" Rachel asks shyly.

Noah scoffs. "Yeah. Who do you think is supplying most of it?"

Finn furrows his brow. "You can drink whatever you want. Or don't want. Whatever makes you happy."

Rachel remains hesitant. She _is_ curious, but still very much wary. And she has no idea what she'll tell her fathers if she decides to go.

"Hey Santana!" Noah bellows in the middle of her contemplation.

Rachel's gaze snaps toward where Santana, Brittany, and Quinn are gathered. She can easily make out Santana's agitation in the hands on her hips and the stiffened spine as her attention lands on Puck.

"What?" Santana snaps back.

"Come here!"

"You come here asshole!"

Noah rolls his eyes, but then motions toward Finn and Rachel. "Come on," he grumbles.

Rachel's attention is entirely on Quinn as she walks forward. She watches as Quinn touches Brittany on the shoulder, her lips moving as she speaks too quietly for Rachel to hear. Then Quinn looks up, meeting her gaze with cool aloofness, and Rachel finds her breath catching in her lungs. It's only as Quinn quickly marches away, shooting her one last steely glare of contempt that Rachel sucks in air and remembers Finn. Her attention swivels to him, looking up as he lumbers beside her, and it's like her world rights itself from the tilted axis that is Quinn Fabray. Finn gives her a smile when he notices, and Rachel finds it easy to return.

"What do you want Puck?" Santana barks as they close in on her and Brittany.

"Many things. Like letting me watch you and Brittany just for one night. One night! It's all I'm asking!"

"You're disgusting," Santana scowls at him before her features lighten, gaze landing on Rachel. "I'm sorry if he's been an ass, Rachel."

"He's been fine, I promise."

"I'm not fine," Noah says. "But I will be if you promise to show up at the party tonight."

"You're not coming?" Brittany says, her voice dripping in disappointment. Her blue eyes are wide and a pout pulls at her lips.

Rachel finds all of it to be very effective. "I simply have not made up my mind yet," she says as assertively as she can.

"Rachel, just come alright? You'll have fun. It's not a big deal—it's like every other party," Santana says.

Finn touches her on the shoulder, his hand heavy against her. "I'll look after you," he says softly.

Rachel can hear Santana's scoff, but she only has eyes for Finn. She licks her lips nervously under his stare before finally nodding her head. "Okay."

Brittany cheers and Noah claps her on the back.

"There you go! Don't worry so much. We'll show you a good time," Santana says before threading her fingers with Brittany's. "See you at lunch?"

"Yes, I'll be there," Rachel says, smiling.

They start to walk away hand in hand, and Rachel has to admit that now that she's not spending most of her time worried about when the next slushy attack or cruel words are going to come that they're rather cute together.

"Hey Rachel," Finn says, interrupting her musings. He rubs his hands nervously down the sides of his jeans, "Would it be okay if I pick you up—"

"Oh, and Britts and I will be at your place at 9:30 tonight to pick you up!" Santana calls back over her shoulder.

Rachel ducks her head, smiling, as Finn sighs, his shoulder slumping. He jams his hands into his pockets before saying, "I'll just see you there."

A part of Rachel wishes he would insist on picking her up for the party. Another part of her is excited at the prospect of going with Santana and Brittany instead because they are two of the most popular girls in school. And with that, she also knows there's also a strong chance that Quinn will be with them. She means to keep her distance from Quinn, but if Santana and Brittany are present, it would provide some safeguards… Rachel _does_ want to figure Quinn out—even as she acknowledges that she's toeing the very line she set for herself.

But for now, she casts Quinn from her mind because Finn's disappointment is obvious, and it makes her feel brave. She reaches out, touching his arm. "You'll see me at lunch first."

He visibly brightens. "Yeah, I will."

"I'm going to catch up with Santana and Brittany because they overlooked the simple fact that neither of them are in possession of my address…" She wraps a hand around his neck, pulling him down as she stands on her tiptoes. She presses a quick kiss to his cheek, feeling the rough stubble underneath her lips. Not for the first time she marvels at his height and how difficult it is to reach up to him.

But getting his pleased grin afterwards makes everything worth it. She leaves him with a shy smile, hearing Puck's emphatic "_Dude_" in her wake.

Rachel heads through the doors, chasing after Santana and Brittany. She heads for their lockers, which are right next to each other. Rachel is fairly certain Santana bullied whoever did have one of the lockers next to Brittany into giving it up. She quickly approaches, waving to everyone who greets her along the way.

"Santana," she calls out.

Santana turns away from Brittany, gaze softening as it lands on her. "Not having second thoughts are you?"

"Did you get lost?" Brittany pipes in. "I can take you back to your locker if you need it. I memorized where it was yesterday!"

Rachel laughs. "I'm okay. I was just going to tell you both that you can hardly pick me up if you don't have my address."

Santana waves her hand dismissively. "You looked like you were busy with Hudson, which really, I don't get. But whatever makes you happy. He sucks in bed though—just so you know what you're getting in to."

"Forgive me when I say that, all things considered, you might not be the best judge of a how a male performs in bed," Rachel says snappily. It's only after the words pass her lips that she realizes that Santana could very well react badly to it.

But she has little to fear as Santana merely snorts. "True that," she says. "And it's whatever. I figured we could ask you at lunch. Or text you or something."

"You don't have my number," Rachel says.

"We don't?" Santana says. "Well shit… Give it up."

It's as she's sharing her phone number that two football players casually greet all of them as they pass by. Rachel distantly returns a "hello" as they saunter on, paying no extra mind to them.

"Bottom's up freak!"

Rachel flinches, and she swivels reflexively to find and brace for the incoming attack. Instead, she's just in time to see one of the football players push ahead of the other, slamming his shoulder into a scrawny freshman who stumbles at the impact. The other jock rears back his arm and sends a large slushy straight into the student's face. Rachel takes a half a step forward, and only stops as she hears Santana and Brittany's laughter echo among her other popular peers in the hallway. She hesitates, uncertain, as the freshman wipes excess slushy off his face.

She could do something.

She _should_ do something.

Instead, she finds herself frozen. She swallows nervously and forces herself to look away as the football player with the now empty slushy cup almost casually knocks the books out of boy's hands. And then, of course, out of everyone present in the crowded hallway, her gaze lands on Quinn. And Quinn, leaning against some lockers just down the hallway, is staring back at her. It sends a shiver down Rachel's spine.

Had Quinn been there the entire time she was talking to Santana and Brittany? Rachel doesn't know. All she knows is that Quinn's eyes are dark and empty.

* * *

"Dads, you know Tina from glee club?" Rachel begins carefully at the dinner table. She's always maintained the illusion to her dads that the relationships she had in glee club go much more smoothly than they do in real life.

Her dad swallows a mouthful of stir-fry before answering. "Of course. What about her?"

Rachel takes a deep breath. She hates lying, but she looks her dad in the eye. "Well, Tina is having all of the glee club over to her place for a musical movie marathon tonight, and I was wondering if it would be fine if I went?"

Her dads exchange a look, and then both smile and nod in near unison. "I think that sounds wonderful," her daddy says. "Though this does mean you automatically forfeit in any board games that may or may not be played tonight."

"That's to be expected," Rachel says soberly. Board games are taken very seriously in the Berry home. "I'm not sure what time I'll be home. In the alternative, if it grows very late, I might end up spending the night. If that's okay with you." She says the last line hastily.

They nod their approval and then her dad starts a story from his workday. Rachel finishes her dinner quickly and does her part of the dishes as her fathers linger over their glasses of wine. She dashes out of the kitchen with a quick goodbye and practically flies up to her room. It's almost 8:00 p.m. now. She has a little over an hour and a half to get ready. That's more than enough time. But there are two things she knows as she stares at the clothes in her closet. She has no idea what to wear. And she can't wear anything that might draw her fathers' scrutiny.

An hour and fifteen minutes later, she's ready. She _thinks_.

It helped that she reminded herself that if things go as they have been, it shouldn't matter what she's wears. In the back of her mind, however, there remains one little thought that makes her hesitant and that thought is Quinn Fabray. Regardless, she thinks she looks good enough for a high school party—even if the skirt and shirt combo is something she would also wear to school. She hesitated over knee socks, but ultimately decided to forego them and wear some strappy sandals instead. She worries a little over the lingering cool evening temperatures, but thinks she'll be okay if she isn't outside for very long.

With fifteen minutes to spare, she resigns herself to waiting. She watches some favorite videos on YouTube–Barbra, Patti, and other classic performances that help calm her mind. She still anxiously checks her phone every few minutes and when the time starts to edge past 9:30 she finds her anxiety spiking.

At 9:35 p.m. she muses they must have started for the party and then remembered they needed to pick her up.

At 9:38 p.m. she wonders if they have forgotten her completely.

At 9:40 p.m. she feels a cold sweat break over her skin as she thinks that perhaps it's all a setup.

At 9:41 p.m. her phone breaks into sound, and Rachel answers it immediately.

"Hello," she says quickly.

"Rachel! We're here!" Brittany's voice comes through the receiver with breathless excitement.

"Okay, I will be right out!" She says enthusiastically before hanging up. Time to go! But before she can stand, the nerves set in. She anxiously runs her hands over her face. _Her first real high school party._ And is Quinn going to be out there with Santana and Brittany?

She takes a steadying breath, drawing her shoulders back. "You're going to be fine," she whispers to herself. She stands, grabs her clutch, and quickly strides out of her bedroom door. She spares a moment to say goodbye to her fathers, crossing her fingers in hopes they aren't suspicious. They don't say anything beyond "send us a text if you're spending the night" so she flies out the door to see a SUV waiting outside.

Brittany is in the passenger seat and halfway hanging out the window, waving toward her. Rachel can see past her that Santana is in the driver seat, fiddling with the radio. It's too dark to tell if anyone is in the backseat of the SUV. She hurries forward, trying to get the vehicle as quickly as possible in case one of her fathers takes a peak outside. She knew she should have told Santana to pick her up just down the street.

She opens the door to the backseat to find it empty. And she's not sure if she's disappointed or relieved.

"You're looking super cute Rachel," Brittany says once greetings have been exchanged and Santana speeds off.

"Really?" Rachel says, unable to stop herself from taking self-conscious a glance down at her outfit. "Thank you! You both look…very…put together."

"Sexy. You mean sexy," Santana says.

And yes, Rachel has to admit that they _do_ look sexy. Santana is in a dark formfitting dress and Brittany is in shorts and an artfully unbuttoned blouse. Rachel does her best not to stare at either of them for too long.

She clears her throat, thankful for the dark car that's hiding her blush. "Yes," she says simply and then she wets her lips, searching for a change of topic. She says the first thing that comes to mind. "I'm surprised Quinn is not present."

Santana shrugs as she slows for a stoplight. "Eh, she said she'd get her own ride."

"I told her we'd get her after picking you up because she's closest to Brian's house and after that she said she would just get there on her own," Brittany says. "She's been acting funny lately."

"It's _Quinn_. There's always something going on with her," Santana says.

"You should talk to her San," Brittany says, placing her hand on Santana's shoulder.

"Maybe when she's not being such a bitch," Santana grumbles half-heartedly.

"That's not being very nice," Brittany says lowly.

"Yeah, I know," Santana sighs. She turns her head toward Brittany, offering an apologetic smile. She then looks up into the rearview mirror, meeting Rachel's eyes through it as the light turns green. "It's whatever. Brittany's been pre-gaming if you want to join."

"Pre-gaming?" Rachel asks.

"Yeah, pre-gaming!" Brittany says. And then she reaches around the seat, holding out what seems to be a water bottle.

Rachel takes it and unscrews the top off. She takes an experimental sniff and promptly recoils. "That's alcohol!"

Brittany and Santana both laugh. "What did you think it was going to be?" Santana says amusedly.

"That is an open-container violation!" Rachel hisses.

"There's going to be alcohol at the party. I'm not drinking. I don't see why it's a big deal," Santana says.

"It is because it is!" Rachel protests. "It's meant to stop public intoxication!"

"Rachel, it's no big deal. We're almost there anyway," Brittany says.

Rachel looks down at the bottle in her hands, nervously clinching it tighter. "I'll have a sip once we arrive and the car is in park," she says, screwing the top back on.

"Alright, suit yourself," Santana says dismissively.

It does only take them another minute to get to Brian's home. There are cars parked up and down the street. Santana drives by, giving Rachel a chance to assess the scene. Aside from the number of cars on the road and light pouring out of practically every window of the home, there's not much else that she can see from the SUV indicating what's going on behind the front door.

Santana stops a couple of houses down, killing the ignition before turning around and looking at her with a smirk. "So?" she says, gesturing to the bottle Rachel's has kept clutched in her hand.

Rachel looks from their expectant eyes back down to the bottle. She unscrews the tops and brings the container to her lips, doing her best to ignore the smell. She tilts it back and takes a swig. She thinks it's something mixed with soda, but she swallows as quickly as possible to avoid tasting it. Coming back up for air, she realizes it was not as awful as she thought it might be—though she's in no hurry to drink any more.

She hands the bottle off to Santana who takes a few healthy swallows before passing it on to Brittany. "I'm not having any more than that if I'm going to take you back home tonight," Santana says, reaching over and placing a hand on Brittany's thigh.

"I'll make it up to you later," Brittany says.

"I have no doubt you will," Santana replies, eyes dark.

"Stop that," Brittany says, batting Santana's hand off her thigh. "We have company!"

"You wouldn't say that if it was Quinn here instead of Rachel," Santana says.

Rachel's eyebrows shoot upwards, wondering what in the world that could mean.

"That's because Quinn's reactions are funny sometimes," Brittany says, grinning. She turns her gaze toward Rachel. "Do you want any more?"

"I will pass for now," Rachel says distantly, thoughts on what Brittany said about Quinn. She gets one answer only to get another question.

"Okay," Brittany hums. "There is plenty more inside, and I know Puck will be happy to help you find something to drink."

"And Finn," Santana says, rolling her eyes.

"And Finn," Brittany echoes, grinning toward Rachel. She then holds out the bottle as a quick cheers before knocking the rest of its contents back. Once finished, smiles brightly and practically bounds out of the car, leaving Rachel and Santana to scramble much less gracefully out in her wake.

They approach the house, and now that she's not in the car, she can faintly hear music and see the shadows of people moving inside. Even just walking up to the front door the house seems loud and crowded.

"How long has the party been going on?" Rachel asks, curious.

"Probably since about 9:00," Santana answers casually.

"But it's almost 10:00! We're so late!" Rachel says dismayed.

"We always arrive late," Brittany says. "It's what we do when we're this popular."

"We have an entrance to make," Santana adds as they take the last few steps toward the front door. "Hope you're ready."

Rachel's thoughts are a whirlwind of hows and whys and that doesn't make sense. But then Santana opens the door releasing a blast of heat and a stench of sweat and alcohol. Rachel hesitantly looks inside, and it's only when Brittany gently nudges her that she steps forward through the threshold.

And then she's immediately beset by a cacophony of sound and people. Those near the front door spot her and close in and for a moment it's overwhelming. But then Noah is there, throwing an arm around her shoulders. She hears Santana yell about dancing behind her and then feels Brittany push by her. Brittany grips Santana's hand in hers, pulling her along. She stops just long enough to say, "You should join us Rachel!" before continuing toward the living room that has been turned into a dance floor.

In retrospect, her entry into the party wasn't nearly as bad as she thought. It was overwhelming only because it was so foreign. But now that Noah is guiding her toward the kitchen, she feels herself start to relax again.

"You're looking super hot tonight," Noah says.

"Thank you," she says as coolly as she can manage. The validation those words bring still send a thrill through.

"Anytime," Noah grins lasciviously. "Now, what can the Puckasaurus get you to drink?"

Rachel can't stop the slight giggle. She's heard Noah use that name before, and it still somehow manages to be utterly ridiculous, juvenile, and charming all at the same time. "I really don't know," she answers

"Beer, PJ… I could make you something. I think there might be a couple of wine coolers too," Noah says, letting her go so that he can open up the fridge.

"What's PJ?" She asks. She's heard the term, but she's never bothered learning what it means.

"The stuff in that cooler. Want a cup?" Noah says.

She takes half a step toward it, getting a better look at the pink liquid inside the cooler. She then watches some vaguely recognizable junior stumble toward it and scrunches up her nose as he dips his cup and most of his hand inside the "juice." Rachel looks back toward Noah and shakes her head vigorously.

"Yeah, I wouldn't either," Noah says. "But hey, here's a wine cooler! It's a little girly for me, but that means it's probably perfect for you."

He pulls out a bottle with a cloudy liquid inside and opens the top before passing it to her. She eyes it critically, but takes a sip nonetheless. It's sweet and tangy, with only the slightest telltale burn of alcohol. She licks her lips, gathering the remnants of the taste. "It's not bad," she says.

"Cool. I did say I'd take care of you, you know," Noah says.

Rachel opens her mouth to retort, but she finds the words are snatched from the tip of her tongue. Behind Noah, in the next room over, there's a flash of blond hair and slim shoulders. She cranes her neck, trying to look around him to see if it really is Quinn.

"Rachel!"

She jolts, almost losing her drink in the process. Noah steadies her with a hand on her elbow. Once she is sure of her footing, she turns to find Finn behind her. She can tell he's drunk. His eyes are unfocused and his smile is a little too wide. But she can't deny that he isn't still attractive.

"Hi Finn," she says demurely.

"I'm glad you came!" he says loudly.

"Me too!" Rachel says.

"Awesome! Hey, would you like to dance? With me?" he says, pointing toward himself. But instead of meeting her eyes, he glares over her shoulder at Noah.

"Dude, chill," Noah says. "I was just getting her a drink."

"That sounds lovely, Finn," Rachel says quickly, stepping forward and taking his hand.

"Really?" Finn says.

"Careful Rachel, Finn's more likely to step on your toes," Noah says.

"You're an asshole Puck," Finn snarls.

"Be nice boys," Rachel says, but a part of her is thrilled that two of most popular guys in school seem to be fighting over her. But while Noah is handsome, it's Finn that makes her feel butterflies. And it's him that's her _true love_. She knows it. "Come on Finn," she says, pulling on his hand. "Let's go dance."

Finn seems to forget all about Noah as she pulls him away from the kitchen. He smirks toward her, his eyes a little more focused than earlier. In fact, the only sign of his intoxication is the occasional off-centered step as they make their way toward the crowd of people dancing. She sets her drink down on a bookshelf and quickly forgets all about it with the feel of Finn's hand in hers. He pulls her into him once they reach the edge of the crowd, and, for a moment, having his hands on her hips, dancing together, is everything she hoped it would be.

Yet, she quickly becomes uncomfortable. It's not quite the dancing she's dreamed of. (In fact, she's not even sure she can in good faith call it dancing, though she is aware that this is what many of her peers do.) Finn holds her tight against him, and Noah was right—he _is_ a horrible dancer. The height difference only exaggerates it. She can feel the material of his jeans on her thighs as her skirt rides up slightly. And she can feel the press of _him_ against her stomach. _It's an erection, Rachel—grow up_, she tells herself. She can't deny that despite the uncomfortable dancing and Finn's complete lack of rhythm that she doesn't feel the way her stomach flips at knowing he's aroused.

But eventually, her feet get stepped on one time too many and the awkward dancing grows close to unbearable. Perhaps he'll be willing to sit with her for a while… Though she knows that she has no claim to him yet and that he's popular. He has a string of ex-girlfriends at this party alone. There are so many other girls would want to dance with him. There's no helping it though—she needs a break.

"Want to get off this dance floor for awhile?" she says over the music, leaning up toward his ear to be sure he'll hear her.

"Really?" Finn says, grinning smugly. "Yeah!"

He takes her by the hand, pulling her gently along. She's surprised when he turns to head up the stairs. She's not quite sure why they can't just sit down at any of the available seats with everyone else around. But she supposes it will be quieter up here and it _is_ time with Finn so she's certainly not going to complain.

It's only as he knocks and then opens a door to a bedroom that it strikes her exactly what is happening. She curses herself for being so incredibly naïve even as her heartbeat picks ups. Finn gestures for her to walk into the room, and she finds herself unable to resist. She fidgets as he follows her in and closes the door behind him. The click of the lock being pushed into place is thunderously loud.

Then he's approaching her, his gait unbalanced and his eyes hazy. His hands reach out toward her, the space between them rapidly vanishing. She stares at his lips as they come closer until there is nowhere else for them to go but against her. It strikes her when she can feel his breath against her skin and his hands tightly grip her waist that this is going to be her first kiss.

Then his lips are on hers. Despite knowing it was going to happen, she still gasps in surprise at the feeling. His tongue is in her mouth almost immediately. It's wet and warm, and his stubble is rough against her face. He tastes like alcohol and smells of sweat. His hands paw at her hips, and one reaches toward her ass. It's…

Nothing that she wants.

She pushes against his chest and breaks from the kiss. His lips are parted and his eyes blink slowly in confusion at her. She takes one more look at him, keeping him at arms' length. Finn is _her true love_.

But not like this.

She doesn't want him like this.

She flees.

She dashes out the door and down the stairs, past another couple making out against the banister. She pushes her way through the crowd, sick of the music, of the people, of the stench. She takes the easiest path she can find, finding herself back in the kitchen and flying through the backdoor leading out onto a porch. She breathes in the fresh air—still tinged with winter despite the warmer days of late—and closes her eyes, trying to calm her racing heart.

"What are you doing?"

The voice startles her heart back up to a full sprint. Her eyes open and she immediately locks on to the source.

Quinn sits on top of the steps leading down to the backyard. There is a phone and a half-empty bottle of beer beside her, but otherwise she's alone.

"I needed some fresh air," Rachel says hesitantly, crossing her arms.

"Not enjoying your popularity? Or rubbing yourself up against Finn?" Quinn says acidly. Then her voice softens, tingeing with something that Rachel can only call melancholy. "Welcome to your first meaningless high school party."

"It's been fun," Rachel says defensively.

Quinn laughs bitterly. "Oh I'm sure it is. The novelty, the attention, having everyone at your beck and call."

"It's a nice change from getting slushied in the face everyday," Rachel says shortly.

Quinn stares at her. The lights from inside the home reflect in Quinn's eyes, making them almost seem to glow. Rachel shivers under the gaze, remembering Shelby's warning.

"I suppose it is," Quinn says after a moment. She picks up her beer and takes a long sip of it before staring out into the backyard.

Rachel shifts her weight from foot to foot behind her. A thousand different thoughts run through her head—the most prominent being _why doesn't the spell work on her?_ And she can't stop herself from opening her mouth. "Why don't you want to be my friend?"

"Like everyone else suddenly is?" Quinn says dismissively. "I am going to figure out what _that_ is all about. Though maybe I'll wake up one day and things will be back to normal just as quickly as I woke up to find that you were everyone's best friend."

"Don't count on it," Rachel says challengingly.

"Fine," Quinn bites. "But you of all people should know how fickle they are—how easily it is for them to turn against you. I did it to you. And then I did it to myself."

"You didn't get pregnant on your own Quinn," Rachel says carefully.

"But you can be made to deal with the consequences very much alone," Quinn says softly.

Rachel is left searching for a response. Nothing seems to fit in the wake of that confession. All she knows is that every word Quinn has uttered tonight has only made her want to befriend her more. The sense of emptiness in her words. The evident guardedness. The self-imposed solitude.

Shelby's warning be damned.

Rachel takes a hesitant step forward, eyeing the space next to Quinn on the top step. Just as she makes up her mind to actually take a seat there, the backdoor opens and Brittany's blonde head pokes out.

"There you are!" Brittany exclaims. "And hey Quinn! You should both come back inside. Rachel, you can stick with Santana and me for the rest of the night. We'll keep Finn away!"

"Finn, huh?" Quinn mutters just loud enough for Rachel to hear. "Of course…"

"I think I will come back inside, thank you Brittany," Rachel says assuredly, doing her best to ignore Quinn's reaction to learning exactly why she fled outside.

"Yay! And what about you Quinn?" Brittany asks.

"I'm going to stay out here for awhile," Quinn answers without turning around.

"Alright, well you should come inside so you can dance with me later," Brittany says.

"We'll see," Quinn says vaguely.

"Okay, see you in a bit!" Brittany says brightly as if it's a foregone conclusion.

Rachel grabs the door from Brittany, letting her slip back inside the kitchen. Unable to help herself, she looks over her shoulder at Quinn one last time. She takes in the rigidness of her shoulders, the empty space beside her, and she thinks, once again, that she doesn't want or need Shelby's vague warnings of telling her to stay away. She _will_ make Quinn her friend.

* * *

**A/N:** And there you go! A little more about Quinn is revealed. Thank you for reading! And thanks as always to thoughtsinorange for her assistance.


	4. Prince Charming

**A/N:** Sorry for the delay. It's pretty safe to say that I can't predict when I'll have updates, but you can always check with me at my tumblr for when I think the next chapter will be out.

* * *

**Voiceless**

_**Chapter 4: Prince Charming**_

Rachel is disoriented when she wakes up Saturday morning. A bright light is emitting from somewhere and she groans, hoping it will cue whoever turned the light on that it needs to go back off. But the light doesn't go a way, and slowly her brain starts clicking. Finally it registers that she is indeed in her own bed in her very own room. The difference compared to most mornings is that the sun is beaming through her windows and the alarm clock beside her bed is reading just past 11:00 am.

She sits up upon reading the time, a shot of adrenaline sending her into complete alertness. How did she sleep so late? Half the day is practically already gone!

She jumps out of bed and makes a beeline toward the bathroom. After taking care of her immediate needs, she realizes she's desperately in need of a shower. She can feel the stench of alcohol and sweat on her skin. She was much too exhausted to bother with it by the time Santana and Brittany dropped her off at home close to 3:00 am last night.

She starts up the shower and steps in once the water is steaming. She sighs as it hits her skin, relaxing at the gentle massage as her thoughts fill with what happened the night before.

She's not sure how she feels about what happened. About the party. About Finn. About _Quinn_. Actually, that's a lie. She knows how she feels about Quinn. It sends an odd sort of thrill through her when she thinks about it. How she wants to make Quinn her friend despite whatever warnings Shelby has thrown her way. It goes beyond simply trying to have everyone at McKinley as her friend. She wants to _know_ Quinn.

So how she feels about Quinn is easy. How to make a friendship happen between them is hard.

Whereas for Finn…

She avoided him after returning inside at Brittany's behest the rest of the evening. And thankfully, aside from one brief attempt, he didn't try to approach her. Brittany deftly kept him away just like she promised. Rachel still couldn't stop herself from shooting an occasional glance toward him. He spent most of the rest of the night sulking in a corner, nursing a drink. She watched a few other girls sidle up him, her heart beating wildly when they did. But each time they walked away alone, and despite herself, she would sigh in relief. She still refrained from speaking to him when she left the party with Brittany and Santana.

Even now, the memory of the kiss they shared leaves her filled with nothing but regret. Her first kiss was nothing but a ribald, intoxicated exchange. And it's something that she'll never get back. But…first or not, _it was only a kiss_—she reminds herself assuredly. There will hopefully be more.

_But will any future kisses really mean anything?_

She can't stop the thought. The spell has brought nothing but relief, but do her new relationships really mean anything if they've only occurred because of magic?

"They do," she says firmly. The words get carried away, dissipating into the steam of her shower.

Finn is her true love. The spell doesn't change that in the slightest. It just makes it easier for her to finally have him and be happy. Because that's what this spell is about—giving up her voice temporarily so she can finally be happy. It doesn't affect the fact that Finn is her true love. Every kiss they share in the future not tinged by other substances will be meaningful.

She turns off the water resolutely, feeling infinitely better physically and about where she stands with Finn. As she finishes up her bathroom routine, she decides she'll wait for him to make the next move. That doesn't mean she can't help but check her phone for any potential messages that she might have missed from him either before leaving her room.

But there's nothing. So she leaves her phone behind and makes her way downstairs. She finds her dad in the kitchen, putting together his lunch.

"There she is!" her dad says. "And here I thought you'd never wake up."

"You could have woken me up!" She protests. She is still rather put-off by the fact that it feels like most of the day has already gone by.

"At the time you walked in last night? I figured we'd let you sleep in for once," her dad says.

Rachel bites her lip, suddenly worried. She opens the fridge door and takes her time looking inside in order to compose herself (because she knows exactly what she wants). There's no way her dads don't _know_ where she was last night… "I'm so sorry," she says, emerging from the fridge with the carton of almond milk. "I tried to be quiet."

"Oh it's not your fault. Your daddy was tossing and turning and keeping me up. Between us, I think he was worried despite you simply being out for a movie night. Which, thank you for remembering to text us that you were coming home before too late last night."

Rachel just barely holds back her sigh of relief as she reaches for a cup. Her dads really do have no reason to second-guess her. She's never lied to them before about her whereabouts before. "Of course! I would hate to have you worry needlessly about me."

Her dad hums and smiles. "So did you have fun with your friends last night?"

"I did," she answers. She has no idea why it's Quinn that immediately comes to mind and not Santana or Brittany or even Finn. Feeling uncomfortable, both by her dad's line of questioning and her own thoughts, she changes the subject. "Where is daddy anyway?"

"Running some errands. I think he's going to swing by the store so we can actually try cooking dinner tonight. Black bean burgers sound okay to you?"

"That sounds wonderful, but really anything sounds wonderful right now. I'm so hungry."

"I'd be happy to make you a sandwich while I have everything out," her dad offers.

"Hmm…is that avocado?"

"Yep."

"Then yes please if you don't mind!"

"I thought you said anything sounds wonderful right now," her dad says with a wink.

Before she can give a playful retort, she hears the distant chime of her text alert on her phone. She lets out a little gasp and darts from the kitchen with a "be right back!"

She sprints up the stairs and practically flies to her phone to see that she does indeed have a new text message from Finn.

It reads: _"Hey real sry about last nite. I was to drunk bc I wanted to impress you. Would you want to get ice cream with me tom?"_

Her smile drops into a frown. This text was less than ideal on so many levels, but at least he made an effort. That's good enough… _It's good enough_, she thinks by way of reassuring herself.

She briefly toys with the idea of calling him back, but decides to settle for a text in return. _"That sounds lovely Finn. What time should I expect you?"_

His reply comes seconds later. _"3 ok? I'll buy."_

She responds with an affirmative and then falls backwards on to her bed, a smile on her face. She has a date with Finn Hudson tomorrow.

* * *

He's in a polo and freshly shaven. He opens the passenger door of his truck for her. He wipes his hands nervously on his jeans before cranking the engine. He asks about her weekend. And when he pulls to a stop in front of the local ice cream shop, he apologizes for Friday night.

She can't help but be happy, and she's the first to reach for his hand. It's still so big compared to hers, but she finds it doesn't matter too much when his lips turn upwards in a goofy smile.

They walk into the local ice cream shop—The Lima Creamery—hand in hand. And Rachel, eager to put Friday night completely behind them, fires off a question as they wait in-line behind a family with three small kids. "I realize I have no idea so I have to ask, what are your plans for next year?"

"Uh, yeah, I'm going to the community college, do some part-time work, you know," Finn says with a shrug. "I don't really want to leave mom all by herself."

Rachel would be lying if the community college thing didn't earn a flash of disappointment. But the fact that he wants to help his mother… "That's really admirable Finn."

"It's kind of lame, though. I know. You don't have to say it," Finn grumbles.

He relaxes the hold he has on her hand and goes to pull away, but she only grips him tighter, smiling gently up at him. "No, it really is. It may not exactly match up to my dream of the bright lights and busy streets of New York City, but there's nothing wrong with what you're doing."

"New York huh?" Finn says.

But before she can answer, the girl working behind the counter, a mousy junior at McKinley Rachel vaguely recognizes, motions toward them. "What can I get for you?" she says nervously.

"I'll take a scoop of the raspberry sorbet in a cup please," Rachel says, smiling benignly at the girl.

"And I'll go with three scoops of chocolate chocolate chip in a waffle cone," Finn orders.

They're promptly served, and Finn pays, just like he promised. Rachel gives the nervous girl a warm goodbye before leading Finn over to a booth at the back window.

"So what's in New York City?" Finn asks after taking a lick.

Rachel can feel her eyes widen in disbelief. "What isn't in New York? Everything is in New York!"

And then she's off and talking, and she can't stop herself because this is about New York and her dream. She wants Finn, her true love, to be able to share that dream with her. That's what is supposed to happen in her happy ending. Even as Finn's towering waffle cone disappears and her sorbet melts into a sticky substance in it's cup, she's still going strong. It's only when she catches the new arrivals in The Lima Creamery that her words trail off.

Brittany, Santana, and _Quinn_ saunter inside, taking their place in line. And, for a brief moment, she locks gazes with Quinn. As she breaks their gaze, turning her attention back to Finn, she's startled to realize her heart is pounding and her mouth dry.

Rachel does her best to keep her eyes on Finn as she encourages him to talk about what he thinks about theater—which, he really doesn't have any thoughts on it at all, making her attempts difficult. She still can't help but look over his shoulder at Quinn (and Brittany and Santana, she thinks firmly). Part of her just wants to march over to her (them), and ask what she's (they're) doing here. But it's not like they're interrupting her date with Finn, and it's a relatively nice Sunday afternoon so it's not outside the realm of possibility that they just wanted ice cream.

She takes another peak over Finn's shoulder as he starts talking about a video game, and is met with Brittany's smiling blue eyes looking back. Brittany waves, grinning, as she leads Santana and Quinn to a booth a few down from hers and Finn's. Quinn sits with her back to her.

Now's not the time to make Quinn her friend, Rachel knows. She's on a date with Finn, and she's already being terribly neglectful in listening to him.

…Even if Quinn's mere presence seems to demand her attention.

Later, when they leave The Lima Creamery, passing by Quinn, Santana, and Brittany with just a quick "hello," Rachel holds Finn's hand the entire way home. And when she leans up on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek, she still thinks about Quinn.

* * *

Lunch hour on Monday finds her once again sitting with Santana, Brittany, Finn, and a number of other popular kids. It's starting to feel..._right_. She doesn't even have any lingering fear that it's all a giant hoax any more.

It's unseasonably warm so everyone gravitated outside for lunch hour. Finn sits besides her, and they exchange the occasional smile whenever their eyes meet. Largely, however, Rachel keeps to herself, enjoying the sunshine. She's relaxed as she lets her eyes wonder the yard, skimming through the clusters of students gathered at tables and on the steps. She's not even surprised any more when she inexplicably finds Quinn. She's sitting at the top of the steps, eyes locked onto a book, and practically golden in the sunlight.

"Rachel what do you think?" Brittany asks excitedly drawing her attention.

Rachel jumps, attention snapping back to the table. She hopes no one picked up on where her attention really was. "I'm sorry, Brittany. What do I think about what?"

Brittany merely grins toothily before answering. "About the prom theme! As class president, I can pretty much make whatever prom I want. Do you have any ideas?"

_Prom_. Between Finn and Quinn, she'd forgotten all about prom the past couple of days. She casts a glance at Finn, finding him looking back. He shrugs his shoulders and smiles boyishly at her. No matter how comfortable things seem to be progressing, she _can't_ forget about prom. That's her deadline for getting her voice back.

Her hand travels absently to her throat, and the sudden longing she feels _hurts_—the kind of hurt that starts deep in her gut, washing through her blood, and leaving her hot and cold.

"Rachel?" Brittany says, and Rachel knows she must have gotten too far lost in her thoughts.

She rises to her feet at Brittany's prompt and hurriedly packing up her lunch as she responds. "None that I can think of I'm afraid. I'm sure you have some brilliant ideas, however. I have to go. I have something I forgot to do before next class."

She leaves before anyone can make a response, marching toward the closest doors to get back inside. She ignores the friendly calls and greetings thrown her way, and thankfully once she gets inside, the hallways are largely empty.

She makes a beeline toward the auditorium. She slips inside the double doors, and as per normal, it's dark and empty inside except for the lone piano on the side of the stage. She breathes in deeply as she walks down the aisle toward the stage. She's spent so many hours in here—before school, after school, during lunch hour, between classes. It's been her safe haven. As rarely as it gets used, she thinks there's nothing wrong with thinking of it as her auditorium either. It's the only place she's ever really felt comfortable in the entire school because even the choir room became ugly and hostile on so many occasions.

She sets her books and halfway eaten lunch down on the edge of the stage before quickly skirting around to the steps to climb. She paces its length, taking slow steps back and forth across the stage.

The need to sing is overwhelming.

Singing has always been apart of her life, but _this_ was the deal with Shelby. And no matter how much she wishes she could sing… Her life is so much better than what it was. She doesn't dread every day. She's not living solely for the future. She has friends and she's on the verge of _something_ with Finn and then she really can have it all.

She draws to stop by the piano, running her hands gently across the smooth finish. Her fingers fall to ivory keys and she wonders if any of these relationships really mean anything when they only exist because of magic?

_Yes_, she tells herself. _Yes_ because magic provided an opportunity where there previously wasn't one. That's all it did.

And she decides that it's okay for her to yearn to sing—it'll keep her on the path to getting her voice back.

Her fingers press into the keys and she plays a dissonant chord. She gasps, startled, not at hearing her creation of discordant noise, but at the sudden ruckus of sound behind her.

She whirls, leaning back against the piano and warily eyeing through the curtains that lead backstage and to the source of the noise.

"Who's there?" Rachel says. She wishes her voice didn't waver.

When no response comes, she licks her lips nervously before trying again. "Who's there!? I have a can of mace and I have perfected the art of self-defense!" This time she proudly manages a lot more bite to her words.

There's an almost imperceptible sigh, and then a rustle of curtains as a slender form with golden hair steps out onto the stage.

"Quinn?" Rachel says incredulously. "What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here?" Quinn says coolly in return, crossing her arms.

"I-I just needed a moment," Rachel says, unsure why she feels so flustered. She doesn't owe any explanation to Quinn. "You're the one following me! I saw you outside!"

"Of course I followed you," Quinn says, taking measured steps forward. Each word brings her physically closer. "You practically ran away from lunch and for what? So you could come here and walk aimlessly around the stage? I'm surprised you're not belting out some love song for Finn."

"I don't owe you any explanation for my actions Quinn," Rachel says as steadily as she can. It's hard when there is only the smallest of separation between their bodies and Quinn's eyes are dark and dangerous. Shelby's warning to stay away from Quinn rings in her ears.

Quinn purses her lips together and for one wild moment, Rachel thinks she's going to lean in further. Instead, Quinn takes a step back and says, "I told you that I'm going to figure out what you've done to this stupid school. And when you run mysteriously out during lunch hour—it's suspicious. You shouldn't be surprised that I'm investigating."

And with that, Quinn turns on her heels and struts away, leaving Rachel unsteady by the piano.

* * *

Tuesday passes without any special incidents in her new life. Rachel chats with Finn, and eyes Quinn from a distance. Wednesday, however, begins with an announcement from Principal Figgins that gives her pause.

"Students, your prom committee has decided that this year's theme will be…" Principal Figgins says over the intercom, pausing for dramatic effect. "Fairy tales!"

There's excited murmuring in her classroom from the girls, and a few low groans from the guys. Her teacher glares out at the class, attempting to silence them with a look as Principal Figgins continues with his announcements.

"…tickets will go on sale starting next week. In addition, please note that this year, as in all years, we have a zero-tolerance policy toward alcohol…"

Rachel tunes out Figgins, thinking about her deadline. She still has plenty of time before prom. But she can't get complacent. Her future is on the line.

Morning classes pass without any disturbance—except for the fact that she can feel eyes on her from time to time. She knows the culprit is Quinn, but it still causes the hair on the back of her neck to stand on end. Rachel has to keep reminding herself not to turn around. She's not even sure what she would do if she did. Stare back? Smile? She doesn't know.

All she knows is that she will make Quinn her friend. Somehow_. _The current…_tension_…between them is not making it easy.

She joins what is now her usual crowd for lunch. It's rainy today so the cafeteria is full when she walks in with Santana and Brittany. Rachel immediately looks for Quinn, but she sees no sign of her. Instead, she settles for a big smile at Finn as she chooses the seat next to him. He returns a grin through a mouthful of sandwich, and she resists cringing.

"How were your classes this morning?" she asks.

He thankfully swallows before answering. "They were alright. Puck and I spent all of English trying to decide if Batman could ever beat someone with actual super powers."

"That sounds…useful_,_" Rachel says, trying to keep her voice neutral. She takes a breath, reading herself to hint about prom.

But then Finn is turning to his other side, nudging Noah in the shoulder. "Dude, I still say there is no way."

"What? Hang on man, I'm trying to tell Brittany that 'fairy tales' is a stupid theme for prom," Noah responds.

"Watch your mouth," Santana snaps. "And why do you even care?"

"Hey!" Noah protests, "I care! I want to go to prom alright? But fairy tales are sissy shit."

"Fairy tales aren't sissy!" Brittany says. "There's swords and dragons and monsters and unicorns, okay? And if you can't deal with it, you don't have to come."

"But if I don't go, there's no way I'll get any!" Noah protests.

"Does that look like it's my problem?" Brittany says easily, munching on a carrot

Rachel takes the easy opening, leaning in toward Finn. "So what do you think about the prom theme?"

Finn turns to her, and she catches his eyes flick down across her form before they meet her gaze. "I don't see why Puck's making a big deal about it. I think it's fine."

"I'm looking forward to it. I think it's going to be a great time," Rachel says. She wonders if she's being much too vague when Finn just stares at her in response. She leans in even closer to him, wrapping a hand around the arm closest to her.

But as soon as she touches him, Finn seems to jerk into awareness. "Do you…uh… Do you want to go out with me Friday?"

"On a date?" Rachel asks, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Yeah," Finn says, his voice growing in confidence. "Like a real one. I'll take you out to dinner, or we could go see a movie if you want?"

"That sounds lovely Finn," she says smiling.

"So that's a yes?"

"Yes," Rachel says bashfully. "I can't wait."

* * *

Her interactions with Quinn the rest of the week are at a distance. It's not for her lack of trying however. She feels Quinn's eyes on her just about everywhere she goes. Yet every time she tries to approach or start up a conversation, Quinn slips away or just outright ignores her.

It's incredibly frustrating. But Rachel's not one to give up so easily either.

However, Friday night is for her and Finn so she casts Quinn from her mind. She finds herself equally worried about her attire for her date as she was for the party the previous Friday. With a half hour left before Finn is supposed to pick her up, she finds herself staring at her closet. It's as she's contemplating the contents inside that her phone rings.

She absentmindedly picks it up. "Hello."

"Rachel."

She snaps into attention. "Shelby?"

"Yes, hello, how are you?" Shelby says quickly.

"I'm doing well. Very well actually. I'm about to go on a date with Finn!" Rachel says, smiling.

"A date with your true love," Shelby says cheerfully.

"I know! I can still hardly believe it! Shelby, this spell has changed everything. I've never been happier."

"I'm glad to hear it, but I need to know Rachel—have you been keeping away from that girl? Quinn?" Shelby says seriously.

Rachel hesitates. She wants to tell the truth—that she has very serious intentions of making Quinn her friend and has actively sought her out. But something in her gut twists uncomfortably at the thought of sharing that information with Shelby. So she lies. "Yes, as far away as I possibly can."

"Good," Shelby says shortly. "It's for the best if it stays that way. This Quinn is an anomaly to the spell's effects, and anyone that is resistant to a spell can never be a good thing."

"I will do my best," Rachel lies.

"Good. Now have fun on your date. And remember, to break the spell and get your voice back, all you have to do is exchange a confession with your true love."

"We're not there yet. It's only been a week after all, but I'm happy to report that progress is obviously being made," Rachel says, smiling.

"That is excellent news. Just remember that you have until the king and queen are crowned," Shelby says happily.

"Which is prom night right?" Rachel says.

"Now where's the fun if I reveal every little detail?" Shelby says lightly. "Have a good time on your date."

Shelby hangs up before she can respond. Rachel sighs into the phone before pulling it away from her ear and glaring at it. She's still not really sure what to think of her birth mother. Some of the things Shelby has done and said have put Rachel on edge, but the genuine happiness at her progress with Finn eases any misgivings. Plus, her life is honestly so much better than what it was and it's because of Shelby and her spell.

She shakes out of her reverie and focuses back on what's important for now—picking out clothes for her date. She settles for a cute navy dress this time. She has no idea where Finn is taking her, but she thinks the dress will work for most of the activities that they could get up to in Lima.

She's putting on the finishing touches of her makeup when she hears the doorbell ring, and butterflies subsequently flutter in her stomach. Her dads insisted on answering the door after she told them about her date so she makes herself stay put in the bathroom, checking her hair one last time. Satisfied, and thinking that Finn has more than likely suffered enough under her fathers' watchful eyes, she sweeps out of the bathroom, grabbing her purse and sliding on her wedges.

She comes downstairs to find Finn, dressed in khakis and a plaid button-down, sitting stiffly in the center of the couch as her dads sit in either armchair. She just barely resists laughing at her daddy in a housecoat and ascot, sipping on a glass of red wine with an unlit cigar in his fingers. Her dad is a little more modest, but his eyes are locked Finn and he's altogether a little more intimidating.

"Hi," she says by way of greeting to all three.

Finn jumps to his feet, turning to look at her. "Hey," he breathes.

"Well, we'll let you two get going," her dad says standing. "Have her home by midnight son."

"Yes sir," Finn says. He steps unsteadily toward her dads, offering his hand. "It was…uh…nice meeting you both."

Her dad and daddy both shake his hand, and then stand back, watching him like a hawk as he meets her at the door.

"Just a second," Rachel says to Finn, squeezing his hand. She quickly walks up to her fathers, and hugs her daddy first.

"Have a good time," her daddy says, hugging her tightly.

"What are you wearing?" Rachel whispers the real reason she came up to hug him.

"I wanted to be intimidating," he whispers back and Rachel resists a laugh, catching her dad's amused gaze. He gives her a wink and nods his head toward the door.

She holds back a smile as she turns back to Finn. "Ready?"

He nods his head, and then they're out the door. Once they're situated in the truck, Rachel looks over to Finn excitedly. "So where are we going?"

Finn looks back at her with smile pulling at his lips. "I thought we'd go to Breadstix. If that's okay with you? I made reservations."

Rachel has never understood Lima's obsession with Breadstix. She and her dads have gone a couple of times, but only if they've exhausted every other halfway decent restaurant in Lima within a couple of weeks. But she nods her head, smiling and hiding her disappointment. "That sounds wonderful."

"Awesome!" Finn says. "You know, I don't know what it is, but you make me so nervous. Like I want to be your friend so badly, but then you're also really hot so I don't just want to be your friend. And uh…did I mention that you look really nice this evening."

Rachel smiles gently as he grimaces at himself, deciding not to over-analyze everything he said. "Thank you Finn."

"I really like you Rachel, and I was so worried I screwed it up last week so thank you for giving me another chance."

"I, for one, am glad you didn't give up so easily or start chasing after some other girl," Rachel says. Then, completely uninvited, at the thought of 'some other girl' Quinn is in her head. She can't stop herself from asking. "Ever since Quinn, you've nearly always have had a girlfriend."

Finn laughs awkwardly. "Yeah… I don't know… It comes with the territory you know? Being popular and all. You understand."

The thing is that she really doesn't. "Being popular is rather new to me," she says primly.

Finn furrows his brow. "Weird. It is isn't it? I don't know why? You're smart and pretty and everyone likes you…"

"Quinn is all those things too," Rachel says, unable to stop herself.

"Yeah, but she's also _Quinn_. And she's not very nice for one. You're nice," Finn says.

"Can I ask? What exactly happened in sophomore year?" Rachel says.

Finn's hands grip the steering wheel hard for a moment before relaxing. "I'm mostly over it. But every now and then it still makes me so angry. Puck let's me beat him at Halo or basketball or something whenever it does."

"We don't have to talk about it," Rachel says hurriedly.

"Maybe some other time," Finn says. "You make me happy and I don't want to think about things that don't."

She can respect that reasoning even though she aches to know more about Quinn—even if it's from a biased source.

They arrive at Breadstix shortly thereafter, and Finn gallantly opens the passenger door of the truck for her before offering his arm. Even though she still doesn't get its appeal, the restaurant is as busy as always. Finn proudly informs the hostess of his reservations and they're whisked off to a small two-person table.

Dinner conversation is a little stunted at first. She gets lost in any sport talk Finn starts up, and she can tell he's equally uninterested in discussing the nuances of Broadway staging. But that does segue into talk about their favorite musicians, which is something they both at least have interest in even if Finn is firmly encamped into listening to just a couple of genres. Rachel has always thought a consummate performer can take on any type so she's been sure to take her musical selection across all varieties over the years.

She's still relieved when their food arrives, giving them another safe topic to talk about it. She thanks the waitress, only to widen her eyes as she notices another group being seated a few tables away—Santana, Brittany, and Quinn. Unlike at the ice cream shop earlier in the week, Quinn sits so that she's looking straight toward the table she's sharing with Finn.

"Quinn," she says by way of surprise.

"What's that?" Finn asks.

Rachel shakes her head, clearing her thoughts. "Quinn, Brittany, and Santana are here."

Finn laughs. "Santana must have dragged them here. She loves it, but Quinn hates this place."

Rachel forces a small giggle, glancing down at her food. She's unable to stop herself from looking back up and toward Quinn's table just a few minutes seconds later. A shiver runs down her spine as her eyes meet hazel. She wishes she knew why Quinn always provoked such a physical response from her.

She tries to focus on her food and on Finn, but she finds she can hardly eat. She can feel Quinn's eyes on her, and it makes it almost impossible give her attention where it's meant to go. She watches Finn shovel food into his mouth and she sighs.

"Will you excuse me a moment Finn?" Rachel says politely, setting her napkin down on the table next to her untouched plate.

"Huh?" Finn says, but she's already on her feet and walking over toward Quinn, Brittany, and Santana.

For a moment, when it becomes obvious she can't be going anywhere else, Quinn's eyes grow impossibly wide. But then they narrow and her gaze travels to Santana and Brittany across from her as Rachel comes to a stop next to their table. If she wasn't so aggravated by Quinn's behavior, she would find it amusing how she seems so very keen on ignoring her now that Rachel is deliberately paying attention to her.

Brittany is the first to speak to her, giving her a giant smile. "Hi Rachel!"

"Hello," Rachel returns cheerily.

"You having fun?" Santana smirks, angling her head toward Finn.

"Yes thank you," Rachel says. "We're having a good evening so far. I don't know what our plans are after dinner, however."

"Alright, let me know if I need to beat him up," Santana says.

"He's been a veritable Prince Charming," Rachel says.

Santana laughs. "Yeah, I suppose he is. He does want to get into your pants."

Rachel colors. Before she can respond, however, Quinn snaps, staring frigidly at Santana. "Grow up."

"You know it's true," Santana protests.

"San…" Brittany admonishes.

Under Quinn's stare and Brittany's reprimand, Santana rolls her eyes and huffs. "Jesus, it's a joke. And look, Rachel, I'll beat him up if he isn't well behaved alright?"

Realizing that's as close to an apology that she's going to get, Rachel smiles tightly. "I will, but I don't think you have to worry. I can take care of myself. Anyway, would you mind terribly if I talked to Quinn for a bit?"

Rachel doesn't miss the way Quinn raises her head, tightening her jaw when she says her name.

"Go ahead," Santana says dismissively. "She's been grumpy all night."

"Would you come with me Quinn?" Rachel says expectantly.

Quinn is silent, pursing her lips.

"Quinn, don't be rude!" Brittany admonishes. "Rachel wants to talk to you."

Rachel waits, arms crossed, until finally Quinn rolls her eyes and slides out of the booth. "Alright, let's go," Quinn says reluctantly.

Rachel nods her head. "Follow me."

She leads Quinn toward the back of the restaurant, passing by Finn as she does. He gives her a quizzical looks as they pass.

"Just going to bathroom Finn," she says easily. "I'll be back in a moment."

"Oh," he grunts. "Girl stuff."

Quinn scoffs behind her.

Rachel walks into the women's restroom with Quinn just steps behind. There's a middle-aged woman washing her hands at the sink, but that doesn't stop Quinn from saying, "You're not tired of that idiot yet?" as the door closes behind them.

"I would appreciate it if you didn't insult my date. And I know this isn't about him at all. Or so you've made clear," Rachel says as calmly as she can. "Besides, you used to date him yourself."

"I used to do a lot of things," Quinn says.

"Look, Quinn," Rachel says gently as the woman at the sink files out of the bathroom. She doesn't miss the way Quinn seems to relax at the change in her tone. "You've been following me all week. You even showed up here tonight even though I hear you hate Breadstix."

"Santana wouldn't leave me alone about coming here tonight," Quinn says, looking away. And it's painfully obvious it's a lie.

Rachel ignores it and continues, "Instead to stalking—"

"—I'm not _stalking _you," Quinn says quickly.

Rachel just waits expectantly.

"…I've been trying to figure out why the whole world suddenly seemed to change its attitude toward you and that means I have to do a little investigation," Quinn says. "I'm trying to understand what the hell is going on."

There's still a little bit of bite to her words, but Rachel can also sense the subtle confusion and frustration Quinn imbues in her speech.

So Rachel takes a gamble. "Instead of going about it behind my back, why don't you actually try to talk to me and see why?"

"I told you I wasn't going to fall all over myself to be your friend like everyone else suddenly is," Quinn says coolly.

"I'm not asking you too," Rachel says, stepping closer toward Quinn. She reaches out, taking Quinn's hand in her own. It's soft and dry. Also resistant and unyielding. "Just give me a chance."

Quinn meets her gaze. Her eyes are dark, but not cold and impassive. The moment hangs between them, and Rachel waits breathlessly for Quinn's response.

And then Quinn pulls her hand out of her grip and turns so that her back is to her. Rachel's heart drops in disappointment.

"Fine."

_Fine_. The word echoes in her head for a moment before Rachel processes it. "Fine?" she says with the workings of a smile.

"Don't make me say it again," Quinn says stiffly.

Rachel can just make out Quinn's profile in the mirror, and her expression is…wary. But it's a step in the right direction so she smiles happily.

The rest of night flies by. She wraps up dinner with Finn, and he takes her back to his house where they watch a movie. Her heart races when he kisses her during the middle of the film. She's not sure how the film ends, but she thinks she would take her swollen lips and breathlessness over the plot any day.

Finn has her home just before midnight. He walks her up to her door and kisses her goodnight. She smiles shyly as she closes her door with a final goodbye. She feels like singing, but even knowing that she can't doesn't bring her down.

Yet when she crawls into bed just a little while later, it's not Finn that she thinks of before sleep claims her. Instead, it's hazel eyes and golden hair and _Quinn_.

* * *

**A/N:** Faberry progress! And Finchel too I suppose...Ick. Work with me a little while longer on that front. The pieces are all there. Hope you guys enjoyed! Thanks, as always, to thoughtsinorange for all her help.


	5. A Very Important Date

**A/N:** It's been almost three months since my last update, and if you're still with me, thanks for being here. I apologize for the wait, and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

* * *

**Voiceless**

_**Chapter 5: A Very Important Date**_

Saturday morning passes by so slowly. Rachel swore she wouldn't call Quinn until after lunch. She doesn't want to seem too forward no matter that Quinn did agree that she would give her a chance.

Her date with Finn last night was pleasant—more than pleasant, she stresses to herself—but her unexpected breakthrough with Quinn is what sticks in her mind. That's not to say she isn't pleased with the way her relationship is developing with Finn. She touches her lips absently, thinking about the kisses they exchanged last night. And with prom just a few weeks away, she's right on schedule for having everything she ever wanted—her voice and talent, acceptance, _love_… So yes, things are proceeding with Finn even more smoothly than she had hoped and that is nothing she takes for granted.

It's just… Quinn remains an enigma in more ways than one. And now Quinn has consented to spending some time together, and Rachel has the beginnings of a chance at cracking open the truth.

So she rushes through her lunch, rapidly loading her dirty dishes into the dishwasher, and bounds back upstairs. She closes the door to her room behind her and sits primly down on her bed, picking up her phone on her bedside table. She takes a deep breath before thumbing through the address book on her phone. It's only as she fumbles through the "F's" that she remembers that she doesn't actually have Quinn's number. She shakes her head at herself and quickly selects Brittany's number for a quick text. She could message Santana, but she's certain she would have to face a round of twenty questions before actually getting Quinn's number. Granted, there's a high chance that Brittany and Santana are currently together anyway and her discretion could be all for naught.

Regardless, she sends the text to Brittany, asking for Quinn's number. And then she sits on pins and needles, anxiously awaiting a response. She feels her courage fade as the seconds tick by. She had been excited at the idea of calling Quinn to plan a…a date. She colors at that thought, feeling inexplicable heat rise through her chest and up to her neck. But that's essentially what she's trying to do. Except perhaps she should think of it as "hanging out" instead.

Now that she's being forced to wait, she thinks of all the ways that calling Quinn can go wrong. She's somewhere between imagining Quinn somehow discovering the spell and leading a school-wide attack on her when her phone buzzes with an incoming text.

It's Brittany with Quinn's phone number, complete with a smiley face. Rachel stares at the number with trepidation for a moment before taking a deep breath. Just as she gets ready to add the number to her contacts, her phone buzzes with another text message. She sighs when she sees that it's Santana. That answers the question of whether Brittany is with her girlfriend. She quickly adds Quinn as a contact before switching over to her messages to check Santana's text.

"_Calling up Q? What r u not telling me?"_

Rachel resists rolling her eyes—but only because there's no one present to see her do it. _"I am just going to try to match schedules with Quinn to see if there is a period of time in which we may meet together to hang out."_

She sends the text and then tries to cast Santana from her mind so she can focus on calling Quinn. That doesn't work so well when Santana sends her a reply just a few seconds later.

"_All u had to say was, I'm gonna hang out with Q jfc"_

Rachel smiles self-depreciatingly. Santana does have a point. But now it's time to actually try to call Quinn so she casts Santana from her mind and selects Quinn's number before she loses her resolve entirely.

She sits on edge as she listens to the phone ring. And ring. And ring. Until finally…

"Hi, this is Quinn. Leave a message," comes Quinn via voicemail.

Rachel barely has time to get her thoughts together before she hears the beep indicating she should talk. "H-Hi Quinn. This is Rachel. Berry. Rachel Berry. I received your number from Brittany and I thought that after last night I would call to see if you were available at some point this weekend. So please return my call when you have a chance and I can't wait to spend some time with you."

She hangs up, pleased with the message. Despite her initial floundering, she was able to finish brightly and confidently. Quinn should hopefully be calling her back any time now…

* * *

"You didn't call me back," Rachel says, marching up to Quinn before the bell signals the start of Monday classes. Quinn is rifling through a textbook in front of her locker, paying no heed to the chaos of the school hallway around her. Rachel's calm, but she also doesn't try to keep indignation out of her voice. She doesn't want to put Quinn on the offensive. Or defensive. Really, she just doesn't want to turn this into a confrontation, but she also wants Quinn to know that it's quite rude not to return a phone call.

Quinn doesn't look at her. But the rest of the hallway has glued their attention to both. Rachel has largely become used to the stares of her peers over the past week however.

"Quinn? I'm talking to you," Rachel says.

"I'm busy," comes the short reply.

Rachel sighs. "May I request a moment of your time?" she says as patiently as she can.

"I'll schedule you in later," Quinn says with a hint of a smirk.

"I insist on speaking with you now. You are being quite rude. I am also not afraid to make a scene in front of all of our peers," Rachel says insistently.

It's Quinn turn to sigh. She closes her textbook with a snap before placing it back in her locker. She closes the door and then leans against it, giving Rachel an expectant stare. "And we both know how you hold the school in the palm of your hand… Alright, what is it?"

"You didn't return my phone call," Rachel states.

Quinn shrugs, and then she looks away, staring absently down the hall. "I didn't want to."

Rachel was prepared for some type of an excuse as to Quinn's complete disregard of her phone call. She wasn't quite prepared to hear a blanket statement that Quinn simply ignored her.

"You told me you'd give me a chance," Rachel says.

"Right. I told you I'd give you a chance. That doesn't mean I suddenly have to make you my priority or even go out of my way to talk to you."

"You have to give me a chance somehow, and that means actually conversing with me," Rachel replies.

"We're conversing right now if that's your definition," Quinn says, gaze snapping toward her.

"You know that's not what I mean. Why are you being so difficult?"

"I don't see why giving you a chance means I have to do it on your terms," Quinn says coolly.

Rachel takes in Quinn's dark eyes and the tense way she holds her body, and she wonders why Quinn persists in being so uneasy around her. _That's silly Rachel_, she thinks. She can't just expect Quinn to relax around her when she's still trying to figure out why all of Lima is treating her, the longtime resident loser, like she's a queen. It really is a complete change to the world. It has been to Rachel, and, being unaffected by the spell, it must be to Quinn too.

"Why not though?" Rachel says softly. "Let's do something together later this week."

"Like what?" Quinn snaps.

"Oh, like anything!" Rachel says excitedly. "We can watch a movie. We can grab dinner. We can talk about boys. We can—"

"I'm _not_ talking about Finn Hudson with you," Quinn says interrupting her.

Rachel's mouth snaps shut, but she is undeterred. "How about we get coffee at the Lima Bean after you finish your cheer practice on Thursday?"

"I don't drink coffee," Quinn says.

Rachel purses her lips in disbelief at how difficult Quinn is being. She finds herself pointing a finger at Quinn a second later. "You are blatantly lying to me! I've seen you drink coffee on numerous occasions! Besides, you could also get a smoothie or tea or any number of beverages."

"You've been watching me?" Quinn says, raising an eyebrow.

Rachel doesn't quite know what to make of her tone. "You hardly have to be observant to notice that you bring coffee from the Cheerios lounge to first period a couple of times a week. And that's beside the point!"

Silence stretches between them after Rachel's exclamation. Quinn perhaps seems to be waiting to see if she backs down. There's no chance of that, and Rachel tries to convey as much through their locked gazes. Finally, Quinn speaks. "I get to ask whatever questions I want."

"But of course. I would never interfere with your right to speak."

"And you have to answer them truthfully."

"I most likely will," Rachel says. "But it does depend on your questions. I'd like to preserve some privacy."

"I'm not going to be asking you what kind of underwear you put on for your dates with Finn," Quinn says disdainfully. "I have questions about all of this."

"This?" Rachel echoes.

"_This_," Quinn answers, gesturing to indicate their surroundings. "Whatever you did to suddenly become everyone's best friend."

Rachel shifts uncomfortably, breaking eye contact.

"I'm not giving you a chance if you're not going to meet me halfway," Quinn says shortly.

Rachel nods her head before looking back up to Quinn's stare. "I agree to answer your questions."

"Truthfully."

Rachel sighs. "To the best of my ability, I agree to field your questions with the requisite honesty," she says. It's a fine line, but it's enough that she won't feel like she's outright lying to Quinn if she needs to fudge the details surrounding anything to do with the spell.

"Fine. I'll see you Thursday at the Lima Bean," Quinn says, brushing by Rachel and striding down the hallway.

Rachel watches her go, eyes on the swish of her ponytail as it moves with her smooth gait. The crowded hallway parts for Quinn in her red Cheerios uniform as she effortlessly commands attention.

"Hey."

Rachel jumps away from the voice near her ear, startled. When she looks back up, she's lost sight of Quinn, but Finn is there next to her, smiling apologetically.

"Sorry," Finn says, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"No, it's okay," Rachel says soothingly. "I was just lost in thought."

"I saw you talking to Quinn. Is everything okay?"

Rachel gives him an easy, full smile. "Yes. It is."

"Good. I mean, you know she can be kind of…uh…rude sometimes and all," Finn says shrugging.

"I can handle myself," Rachel says, wrapping an arm around his. "But thank you. Do you want to walk me to class?"

Finn gives her a grin. "Yeah."

They stroll down the hallway arm-in-arm after Quinn—Rachel does share first period with her after all. Despite Quinn's dramatic exit (which Rachel thought really was quite well done), they're going to end up at the same place. She casts a glance up at Finn and shares smiles with her fellow students that call out to them, and she feels like she's on top of the world.

Finn exchanges an aggressive high-five as they stroll down the hall with one of his football teammates with his free hand. Rachel at first only distantly notices the slushy cup in football player's hand. A heartbeat later, it registers with her exactly what that means, and she looks over her shoulder transfixed on jock's back. He gets lost in the shuffle of the crowd. She doesn't see him wield it, but she hears the shout of "loser." It's followed by laughter that echoes down from where she just left with Finn by Quinn's locker.

"Rachel!"

She starts for the second time today at hearing her name from Finn's lips and brings her other hand to wrap around Finn's arm. "I'm so sorry, Finn. I was distracted," she says.

He gives her a look. "Thinking again?"

"Yes," she says weakly.

"It's cool," Finn says. "But I was wondering if you'd like to come over after school for a little while tomorrow…"

She smiles, trying to cast the slushy and whoever the unfortunate victim was from her mind. "I would like that."

"And then maybe Friday night…" Finn says trailing off.

"How about you let me plan a date for Friday night?" Rachel says, giving him a confident smile.

"Yeah? That'd be cool," Finn responds, grinning at her. But despite his arm around her and his handsome smile at going on a date she would plan, Rachel still can't forget the slushy.

* * *

"As you know, your official AP Exam is in a couple of weeks," Rachel's AP Psychology teacher says as she hands off a thick stack of papers to another student in the front row. "As we've managed to get through most of the material we're going to start reviewing so you can be as prepared as possible for the exam. What I'm handing out to you is a skeletal outline of the material you will probably find on the exam. I want you to go through and fill in the blanks essentially. Get the first 10 pages done by the end of the week. We'll review them together on Friday."

Rachel frowns at the packet that gets passed her way. It's true that AP Exams are right around the corner, which means it's about time to amend her study schedule. She has four exams to take after all and even if a few of her top choices for college don't accept AP Exam scores to exempt her from a class she still wants to do the best as she can.

The bell rings, and, as this is her last period, it signals the end of the day. She places the outline in her notebook and stands up out of her chair. When she looks up, Quinn has bullied her way past all their other classmates to stand imperiously by her side.

"Thursday, bring your outline," Quinn says shortly.

"Why?"

"Because I have a busy week and won't be able to get to it until then. And as you insisted on meeting up this week, we might as well make it something productive."

"Studying is hardly what I had in mind—" Rachel begins.

"Sorry," Quinn snaps. "You're just going to have to deal. I'm trying to run the best cheerleading team in the nation and graduate at the top of the class, I don't have time to listen to you yap for two hours."

Like the hallway that morning, Rachel is once again aware of the quiet stares leveled on her and Quinn. There's a bit of a murmur in response to Quinn's tone.

Rachel purses her lips. While Quinn's approach leaves much to be desired, she doesn't want to inconvenience her either. Besides, it might be kind of nice to study with someone else for a change—even if it's not how she envisioned spending her time with Quinn. Perhaps it's only fair to compromise a bit.

"Okay," she says. "We'll make it a study date."

Quinn stills completely, her jaw tightening and her face blotching red. Rachel has no idea as to the source of Quinn's apparent anger, but she braces herself for the impending outburst. She's taken by surprise when she receives an abrupt "good" instead before being met with sight of Quinn's back as she walks away.

* * *

Rachel spends most of her day Tuesday trying to draw Quinn into conversation and failing completely. Quinn either ignores her or walks away entirely. Rachel reminds herself that they don't have to become best friends over night.

Regardless of her failure with Quinn, she happily follows Finn to his home right after class on Tuesday. They spend the first half hour at his home making out on his bed. His hand creeps up her thigh edging underneath her skirt, and a thrill shoots down her spine at the newness of it all. But as his kisses grow sloppier, as he starts to move more heavily against her, she feels uneasy. It's… It's too soon. Too much too soon. That's all.

"Finn," she says abruptly, drawing in a steadying breath. Is there any other way to end such a make out session besides abruptly? She puts her hands on his broad chest, pushing him back. He complies, looking bewildered. "Finn," she says more firmly. "We need to slow down."

"Oh," Finn says hazily. His expression clears after a moment, and Rachel almost smiles at the obviousness of rational thought returning to him. He stands up, adjusting his pants when he does, before bringing a hand to the back of his neck. "Right. Sorry. I didn't mean to get carried away."

"No," Rachel says quickly. She looks down however, unable to meet his eyes. "It's okay. I just don't want to move too fast. We only started just started dating."

Finn sits back down on his bed next to her. "I'm glad we are. Dating that is."

"Me too," Rachel says, finally looking up at him.

He has a small, nervous smile on his lips, and he rubs his hands over the tops of his knees. "And I was kind of hoping you'd like to be my date to prom?" he says in a rush, exhaling at the end.

Rachel feels her breath catch-she'll have an actual date for prom! Sure, her and Finn certainly were heading in that direction, and fulfilling the spell requirements were more important. But after years of ridicule, she's going to her senior prom on top of the world with one of the most popular boys in school.

She smiles widely at Finn. "Yes!"

"Yes?"

"Yes!" She says before leaning up and kissing him briefly.

They separate, and Finn smiles at her. "Would you like to stay for dinner?"

Before she can answer her phone rings. She instantly recognizes it as her dad's ringtone so she excuses herself with an apology before grabbing her phone.

"Hi dad," she says.

"Hi sweetheart. I just got home. There's an envelope from NYADA here."

There's absolutely no comparison to the overwhelming bubble of anxiety that suddenly takes over her.

"Is it big or small?" Rachel asks.

"Big," he says.

"I'll be right home," she says, trying not to let her hopes rise. She tells herself that a big envelope could mean anything—that it doesn't have to be stuffed full of details for accepted students.

"Drive safe. No speeding!"

She hangs up, and takes a deep breath before meeting Finn's curious stare. "I have to go. I'm sorry I can't stay for dinner. I got a letter from one of the colleges I applied to."

"No, it's okay. Go see. But I'm sure you got in," Finn says. "I'll see you tomorrow."

She gathers her things and rushes out the door, barely cognizant of Finn's goodbye. She tries not to let her imagination run in the drive from Finn's home to her own. But it's hard not to think about either extreme. She comes barreling into her kitchen, finding her dad sitting at the island with some crackers, fruit, and a book.

He looks up at her, putting his book down, and then nods to the envelope at the end of the kitchen island. "There you go."

She picks it up almost reverently, feeling the weight of the contents inside the envelope emblazoned with the NYADA logo. She stares at it. "What if I didn't get in?"

"You got in," her dad says steadily.

She takes a deep breath and opens the envelope, carefully sliding the materials out. On the very top, there's a letter. Her eyes land on the bolded first line.

"…Would like to invite you to join the class of 2016…" She reads out loud.

"You got in!" her dad says, standing up.

"I got in!" she squeals, throwing herself into his arms.

* * *

Rachel is anxious from the moment she wakes up Thursday morning. It takes her so long to pick out her outfit for the day that she's nearly late to first period. Quinn is already seated inside, reading over a textbook, when she walks into the room. Rachel steels herself with a deep breath before approaching her.

"Good morning Quinn," she says brightly.

Quinn raises an unimpressed eyebrow. "What?"

"I just wanted to make sure we're still on for studying at the Lima Bean," Rachel says, undeterred.

"I said I'd be there didn't I?

"Well…yes. But I wanted to make sure that—"

"I'll be there. 5:30," Quinn says shortly.

The final bell rings at that moment so Rachel sends her a bright smile—no matter that Quinn is already looking down at her notebook—before hurrying to her seat.

She spends the rest of the day preoccupied with Quinn, only distracted when Finn presents her with two tickets to prom at lunch out in the courtyard. She kisses him as thanks, but is sidetracked immediately afterwards when she catches blonde hair and a red Cheerios uniform at the top of the steps. It's not Quinn, but Rachel's thoughts have already returned to their upcoming study-date at the Lima Bean.

She hurries home after school, only taking the time to give Finn a brief goodbye and to tell him that she'll see him tomorrow. When he asks about calling that night, she waves him off completely, reassuring him that she has their date planned for tomorrow. But once home, she realizes it was needless to rush. She has a full two hours to kill. She fills the time with homework that isn't her psychology outline and trying to decide if she should change clothes again. She convinces herself that she doesn't need to. She's just going to the Lima Bean, and she's just going to be studying. Plus, she already spent so much time putting together her outfit this morning…

She arrives at the Lima Bean at 5:15, armed with her psychology books and outline. She debates if she should go ahead and get coffee, but decides to wait on Quinn. Instead, she sets up at a small table next to a window. Quinn arrives promptly at 5:30 pm, and Rachel is both relieved and nervous. She knew if Quinn had been running late, she would have spent the whole time wondering if she had been stood up. But now that she's here… Rachel does her best to squash her nerves.

Quinn is dressed down about as much as Rachel's ever seen her—just a simple skirt and gray top but she still looks impossibly pretty—and clutching her books. Rachel stands up, waving at her with a smile. Quinn purses her lips upon seeing her and hurries over, depositing her books next to Rachel's.

"I'm getting coffee," Quinn says before Rachel can even get a "hello" in otherwise. As quickly as she had come over, she walks away. Rachel is left crossing her arms in annoyance at the discourtesy.

Quinn returns with coffee in hand, and Rachel stares at her petulantly. Quinn glances at her, askance. "What?"

Rachel huffs and stands up. "I'm going to place my order," she says in response before marching to the counter.

By the time she returns, Quinn is buried in her psychology book and outline.

Rachel glares at her to no avail. She very deliberately opens her own book and loudly shuffles her papers, hoping to draw Quinn's attention. Her efforts are for naught.

And that's how it goes for the next half-hour. Quinn doesn't say a word as she powers through the first few pages of her outline. Rachel finds that she is nowhere near as productive. Part of that remains in how she can't stop making a show of her annoyance at Quinn no matter how much she's getting ignored in return.

"Do you have notes from September 19th? I missed that day."

Rachel almost falls out of her seat at hearing Quinn's voice after all this time. She recovers to say, "You didn't get notes from someone else for that day before our midterm?"

"I did, but I'd like to compare," Quinn says plainly.

Rachel frowns, but shuffles through her materials before finding her notes from that day. "It's a good thing I make sure to meticulously record each date," she says, passing her notebook across the table.

"I wouldn't call it meticulous. Just practical," Quinn says, reaching for the notebook.

Rachel doesn't let go of her notebook even as Quinn tugs at it. "Do you want my help or not?"

She can almost see the struggle Quinn goes through not to roll her eyes. "Yes, if you don't mind, may I please look at your notes?"

Rachel smiles and releases her hold on her notebook. "There. Is it so hard to be polite?"

"When you ask like that, yes." Quinn responds.

"Well forgive me if I have historically found your manners to be lacking," Rachel snaps. "That doesn't even get into how you've treated me since you've arrived here."

Quinn sighs. "What do you want Rachel?"

"I just don't understand. First you make demands about being able to ask anything and then you say we're going to study. Regardless, you've barely acted like I'm here."

"Oh, I'm sorry I'm not fawning over you like everyone else in this stupid town," Quinn says in a way that indicates that she's definitely _not_ sorry.

"I'm sorry if you're jealous that everyone but you has come to their senses regarding my presence and value."

"God, you're just on this giant egotrip aren't you?"

"I just want to be your friend, but you are making it incredibly difficult!" Rachel exclaims.

"I don't want to be your friend," Quinn says coldly. "I just want to know what the hell is going on. I think I've made that more than clear."

"I promised I'd answer any questions. It's not my problem you seem unwilling to talk to me at all."

"Right now we're just talking in circles!"

Instead of snapping back immediately, Rachel takes a breath, leaning back in her chair. "That's all we have been doing the past couple of weeks."

Quinn eyes her, expression unreadable. Then her gaze falls down to the borrowed notes in front of her, and Rachel finds herself sitting back up, anxious at the silence. Perhaps a minute passes, and then Quinn picks up her pen, writing into the outline. She sets her pen down after a moment, picking up the notebook before looking back up.

"Your note taking is meticulous," Quinn says stiffly. "Thank you."

Rachel gently takes her notebook back from Quinn. "Thanks. It's served me well throughout school. I hope it continues to do so at college," Rachel says. She fiddles with arranging her things before looking back up at Quinn and putting their previous conversation completely behind them. "Obviously, your methods of studying have worked out quite well in your favor."

"I try," Quinn says quietly. "I just want to get out of this damn town. So I try."

"And you are! ...Right?"

"I am what?"

"Getting out of here, aren't you? At least, from what I've heard, it was that you are headed out of Ohio for college," Rachel says. Though she started strong, she finishes weakly, afraid that her assumption is completely wrong under Quinn's stare.

But Quinn smiles slightly, saying, "I might have mentioned it enough last fall that it got around school that I only applied to out-of-state colleges. On top of a few other schools, I applied early admission to Yale. I found out in January that I'll be going to New Haven this fall."

"Yale…" Rachel says. "Wow! That's impressive." And she is impressed. She knows Quinn is smart. Everyone does. Quinn is at the top of their graduating class after all, but going to Yale is still quite the accomplishment.

"Thanks," Quinn says. The brief smile she flashes is completely real, and Rachel can't help but smile in return. "I take it you're going to some sort of conservatory or performing arts school?"

"NYADA," Rachel says proudly. "I just found out that I was accepted a couple of days ago."

"Congrats," Quinn says. It's not as enthusiastic as Rachel's similar praise, but it's still sincere.

Quinn looks back down at her notes then, picking up her pen and effectively signaling an end to the conversation. Rachel's feels her heart drop in disappointment. For a moment, it actually felt like she was getting somewhere with Quinn.

"So you're not going to ask?" Rachel says. The words fall out of her mouth before she can reign them back in, desperate to keep a connection going with Quinn.

"Ask what?" Quinn says coolly without looking up from her outline.

"I don't know," Rachel says, unable to keep the exasperation out of her voice. "You're the one who wanted answers!"

"Then you do have answers for all _this_," Quinn says, looking up and gesturing dismissively toward her upon speaking the last word. "If this is some giant prank Santana has rigged up and you're in on it, I will make your life hell. As soon as I'm done ending hers anyway."

"It's not a prank," Rachel says. "Though believe me when I say that I still wonder sometimes whether it is."

"So you just woke up one day and everything was different? Because that's how it felt to me," Quinn says pointedly. "And the only thing Brittany and Santana have said about the matter is that you're 'cool' and 'hot,' and they realized they wanted to be your friend."

"It happened for you exactly as it did for me," Rachel says seriously. "I woke up, and everything was different."

Quinn is quiet for a moment, her gaze searching Rachel's intensely. "This makes no sense, you know that right?"

"I know," Rachel says lowly.

"And you didn't do anything?"

"No," Rachel says. That's not a lie. _Shelby_ did something. Rachel did not.

"And you really have no idea why?" Quinn says.

Rachel sucks in a breath and for a moment she thinks about telling Quinn everything—Shelby, magic, the spell, everything. But that moment is fleeting. Quinn would never believe her, and Rachel imagines it would destroy the shaky truce they've built. Even if Quinn did believe her, she would never understand why Rachel had to strike that deal with Shelby. Because even when Quinn was down, she rose back up to the top. She wouldn't understand just how desperate Rachel was. _She wouldn't_, Rachel thinks firmly.

But most likely Quinn would just call her insane, pack up her books, and leave.

"Rachel?" Quinn's voice pierces through her thoughts.

Rachel wets her lips, meeting Quinn's eyes. "What I know is that I woke up one day and everything was different. And I don't want to go back to how things were. I was miserable. Do you know that? I was miserable. For so long I thought I just had to wait it out and get out of Lima. Get to a place where people would appreciate my talent instead of destroying me for what makes me different. But even though I was so close—am so close to getting out of here—I couldn't go on like that. So I'm glad things are different. I'm glad people want to be my friend. You don't know what it's like to have no one."

"I do, and you know that," Quinn says shortly. Rachel feels the retort coming, bubbling up inside her, ready to compare what they've each been through. Because what she has had to deal with has gone on for _years_, and Quinn was at the start of it all. Before Rachel can respond, however, Quinn continues, her features soft and eyes cast downwards. "But I do know that things got better for me. But how true is any of it when they're so quick to cast you out to begin with?"

Rachel is held captivated by Quinn's stare, unable to break away from that hazel gaze. "High school is—"

"—stupid," Quinn interrupts. "It's stupid. I did make amends with the few people that matter just so you know. I don't want your pity."

Quinn's voice takes on an edge at the end, and Rachel knows that the moments of truth between them are over for now. Quinn bends over her notes, returning to her outline and leaving Rachel to stare, both frustrated and transfixed by her.

"I don't want your pity either," Rachel whispers. She knows Quinn hears her by the way her pen stills for just a moment. But Quinn continues writing, and Rachel gets to work on her own outline.

Neither of them says a word until they pack up to leave, and even then it's only Rachel who says "goodbye." But Quinn gives her a small, tight smile in return, and it's enough for her.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for reading! And once again I apologize for the wait.

Thanks as always to thoughtsinorange for betaing.


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